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HOMER   CROY 

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TURKEY    BOWMAN 
V 


BOOKS  BY 
HOMER    CROY 

TURKEY  BOWMAN 

BOONE  STOP 

HOW  MOTION  PICTURES  ARE  MADE 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 
ESTABLISHED    1817 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 


By 

HOMER  CROY 

S/ 

Author  of 

•HOW  MOTION  PICTURES  ARE  MADE' 
"BOONE  STOP"  ETC. 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 


Copyright.  1930,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

published  September,  1920 

B-O 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    /  am  going  down  the  street  when  I  see  a  chicken  foot. 
Mother  waves  her  peacock  fan  and  I  get  down  on  my 

stomach  and  put  on  my  false  goatee I 

II.  Hoot  and  I  decide  to  gel  rich,  because  it  won't  be  long  till 
I  am  shaving.  I  think  about  having  three  wives  and 
hotter  and  rub  my  stomach II 

III.  Hoot  tears  his  pants  and  pastes  a  gorilla  in  the  eye  down 
by  the  feed-store.  Hoot  is  all  right,  but  he  is  too  fond  of 
making  an  impression  on  the  opposite  sex.  I  catch 
some  flies  with  my  maple  sugar  and  learn  the  proper 
way  to  act  around  the  ladies 20 

IV.  /  get  down  behind  my  geography  and  look  out  of  the  corner 
of  my  eye  and  Mr.  Hankey's  nostrils  begin  to  heave. 
Head  Wind  sits  down  on  his  Waapoo  and  I  decide  that 

1  am  through  with  women.    , 33 

V.  We  have  the  Living  Book  of  Nature  and  Hoot  tries  to  act 
smart,  as  usual.  I  won't  ever  marry  Addie,  but  I'll 
hire  somebody  to  split  her  wood  for  her,  because  heavy 

work  is  too  hard  on  a  lady 48 

VI.  No  woman  can  insult  me  and  expect  me  to  love  her  the 
same  as  always.  I  write  some  poetry  and  my  heart  is 
broken  for  the  last  time.  I  haven't  anything  to  live 
for  now  except  my  meals 60 

VII.  Our  lives  are  ruined  and  we  don't  care  -what  becomes  of  us. 
Then  we  smell  meat  frying.  We  go  down  to  the  Best 
Place  Saloon  and  I  blow  the  foam  off.  No  woman 

can  ruin  my  life  and  live  not  to  regret  it 73 

VIII.  /  am  getting  so  I  can  swear  pretty  good.  All  I  need  is  a 
little  more  practice  and  I  will  be  somebody.  It's  a  great 
relief  to  be  rid  of  the  opposite  sex  and  no  more  worries. 
I  arrive  at  the  C  Q  and  have  plenty  to  eat 91 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGB 

IX.  I  go  on  eating,  but  all  the  time  I  am  thinking.  Slim 
makes  some  vinegar  candy  and  gets  tired  of  gabble, 
gabble,  gabble.  I  don't  blame  him,  because  I'd  rather 
be  dead  than  tied  down  to  one  of  the  opposite  sex. 
They  are  all  alike.  No  difference  how  you  treat  them, 
you  got  to  watch  out  for  the  dish-water 105 

X.  It's  pretty  tough  since  the  lady  came,  but  everybody  must 
expect  some  trouble.  Bun  Wah  likes  her,  but  that  is 
because  he  has  never  suffered.  Slim  and  I  go  out  on 
the  range  where  there  is  nothing  but  coyotes  and  cattle. 
Now  we  can  be  happy 114 

XI.  When  you  save  a  lady's  life  you've  got  to  be  careful,  be- 
cause you  never  know  how  she's  going  to  take  it.  But 
no  difference  how  she  takes  it  you're  going  to  wish  you 
hadn't.  I've  found  that  out 129 

XII.  A  sheep-herder  can  get  away  from  the  ladies,  but  he  has 

to  wash  the  dishes.  We  meet  Billy  Hell,  but  he  was 
never  educated  to  be  around  the  weaker  sex.  Then 
hoofs  sound  outside 140 

XIII.  The  light  in  the  window  gets  fainter  and  fainter,  then 

drops  behind  a  ridge.  Circles  of  black  smoke  go  twist- 
ing up  and  we  are  off  on  the  trail  of  the  Snake  River 
gang.  Then  we  come  to  the  meat  wagon  and  what  is  in  it.  150 

XIV.  It's  all  right  to  save  a  lady's  life  if  you  don't  expect  too 

much.  Sometimes  they  walk  off  with  their  back  as 
stiff  as  a  ramrod 160 

XV.  Out  on  the  prairies  you  can  get  away  from  women,  but 
there  are  other  troubles.  Life  is  that  way.  No 
sooner  do  you  get  rid  of  one  thing  titan  something  else 
comes  up.  Then  the  tom-toms  begin  to  beat.  .  .  .178 

XVI.  /  come  riding  back  to  the  fort  with  my  chin  slightly 
raised.  The  cannon  in  the  watch-tower  booms  and  the 
soldiers  ride  out.  People  want  to  see  me  because 
I  have  brought  back  the  news.  It  is  all  right  with  me, 
because  I  will  have  to  get  used  to  it,  anyway.  .  .  .  198 

XVII.  /  walk  down  tJte  street  and  meet  the  Professor,  but  I  do  not 
tell  him  what  I  think  of  him,  because  it  takes  all  kinds 
of  people  to  make  up  a  world.  Everybody  could  not  be 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PACK 

like  me.  Then  Slim  puts  his  hand  up  to  his  forehead 
and  staggers,  because  he  did  not  know  how  small  the 
world  was 214 

XVIII.  The  cannon  on  the  watch-tower  booms  and  the  cavalry 
moves  out.  Captain  Hall  fights  as  bravely  as  a  person 
could  who  has  forgotten  his  sword.  I  bet  you  if  I  went 
off  to  battle  I  wouldn't  forget  the  most  important  part. 
Then  the  devil  guns  begin  to  roar 224 

XIX.  The  ladies  can  admire  me  if  they  want  to,  but  it  won't  do 
any  good.  A  heart  that  has  been  broken  once  can  never 
be  the  same  as  it  was  before  the  dish-water.  Slim 
whispers  among  the  bones  awhile,  then  begins  to  sing 
"  Baltimore  Gal." 243 

XX.  The  general  makes  a  speech  and  I  look  modest,  because 
I  think  a  person  ought  to.  We  arrive  at  Temptation 
and  I  look  Hoot  in  the  eye  while  the  calliope  plays 
sweetly.  Then  Addie  and  I  go  out  in  the  grape  arbor, 
while  the  Chinese  lanterns  glimmer  softly  on  her  ribbon 
and  my  shave 259 


TURKEY    BOWMAN 


TURKEY    BOWMAN 


CHAPTER  I 

I  am  going  down  the  street  when  I  see  a  chicken  foot.  Mother  waves 
her  peacock  fan  and  I  get  down  on  my  stomach  and  put  on  my 
false  goatee. 

T  WAS  walking  down  the  street  with  Hoot  Howden, 
!•  talking  about  how  many  men  Lonesome  Charlie 
had  ever  killed,  when  all  of  a  sudden  Hoot  began  to 
act  queer.  He  didn't  say  anything,  but  just  kind 
of  walled  his  eyes,  then  made  the  sign  and  passed  on. 

Then  I  looked,  too,  without  moving  my  head, 
and  there  it  was  in  the  dust.  I  made  the  sign  and 
went  on  talking  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter.  That 
was  the  way  all  the  members  in  good  standing  did. 

We  stopped  and  began  to  look  off  across  the  hills 
to  where  a  prairie-schooner  was  coming  in,  because 
somebody  expected  to  get  rich,  and  put  up  our  hands 
and  shaded  our  eyes  as  if  we  were  trying  to  see  who 
was  in  the  wagon.  But  we  didn't  care  who  was  in 
the  wagon — we  were  looking  for  something  else. 
We  wanted  to  see  the  other  sign,  because  one  sign 
might  be  an  accident.  The  first  sign  was  a  chicken 
foot.  It  was  lying  there  with  its  toes  turned  up 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

because  they  had  dried  that  way,  and,  no  difference 
how  you  stretched  them  out,  they  would  always 
curl  up  again. 

There  on  the  ground,  inside  of  ten  feet,  as  the  by- 
laws said,  was  the  other  sign.  It  was  a  dagger 
scratched  in  the  dust.  That  made  it  certain,  be- 
cause two  accidents  like  that  wouldn't  happen  inside 
of  ten  feet.  We  walked  on  down  the  street,  looking 
for  the  last  sign.  Inside  of  forty  feet  there  was  a 
grain  of  corn  with  a  horsehair  in  it.  That  settled  it. 
It  ain't  anybody  moving  in,"  said  Hoot,  looking 
off  across  at  the  covered  wagon.  "I  guess  it's  just 
a  horse-trader — anyway,  he's  got  three  or  four  old 
crowbaits  following  along  behind." 

"That's  who  it  is,"  I  said,  thinking  about  the  sign. 
No  difference  who  it  was — even  if  he  was  your  best 
friend — you  couldn't  mention  it  to  him  because  that 
was  against  the  by-laws. 

Hoot  Howden  was  my  best  friend.  Wherever  you 
found  him  you  would  find  me.  He  was  the  best 
fighter  in  town,  except  one.  But  I  wouldn't  fight 
him,  because  I  don't  think  friends  ought  to  fight. 
Fighting  is  all  right  and  good  practice,  but  it  is 
liable  to  stir  up  jealousy.  I  have  seen  him  lick  two 
new  boys  and  go  home,  and  his  ma  never  know  it. 

The  horsehair  meant  that  we  were  to  meet  under 
pap's  grist-mill.  If  there  had  been  a  cow  horn  in 
forty  feet  it  would  have  meant  to  meet  at  the 
creamery. 

"He's  probably  got  a  double  bottom  in  his  wagon 
and  is  going  to  sell  whisky  to  the  Indians,"  I  said, 
as  if  nothing  was  the  matter.  I  am  that  way.  I 

2 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

can  be  thinking  about  one  thing  and  talk  about 
another. 

Down  in  front  of  the  Fur  Traders'  Store  we  saw 
it  again.  There  was  the  dried  chicken  foot,  and  the 
dagger  inside  of  ten  feet,  and  over  by  a  hitching-post 
— as  if  it  had  been  left  there  by  one  of  the  Indians 
feeding  his  pony — was  a  grain  of  corn  with  a  horse- 
hair in  it. 

Just  then  Spide  Logan  and  Scoop  Gooden  came  up. 
Spide  had  Scoop's  head  under  his  arm,  showing  how 
a  one-armed  man  could  put  up  a  pretty  good  fight, 
when  they  caught  sight  of  the  dried  chicken  foot, 
and  both  of  them  swallowed  at  once.  Spide  began 
to  wall  his  eyes  around. 

"It  looks  a  heap  more  like  rain  than  it  did," 
said  Spide. 

"It  sure  does,"  said  Scoop.   "I  see  the  same  cloud." 

It  didn't  rain  much  in  Temptation,  because  it  was 
too  dry,  but  that  was  as  good  to  say  as  anything. 
It  didn't  give  the  sign  away. 

Scoop  dropped  his  I  X  L  and  got  down  on  his 
hands  to  pick  it  up  to  make  certain  that  there  was  a 
hair  in  the  grain  of  corn.  It  was  pretty  hard  for 
Scoop  to  drop  a  knife  as  big  as  his  I  X  L  was  and 
make  it  look  accidental,  but  he  gave  his  hand  a  flip 
and  jerked  his  foot  out  of  the  way  and  said:  "Durn 
that  thing!  I'm  always  dropping  it.  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  get  a  piece  of  buckskin  and  tie  it  to  me." 
None  of  the  men  in  the  Fur  Traders'  Store  saw 
through  it. 

Scoop  got  up,  walling  his  eyes  more  than  ever. 
He  had  seen  the  sign,  all  right. 

3 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

"I'll  bet  you  she  rains  inside  of  a  week,"  said 
Scoop,  looking  around  for  the  cloud. 

"I'll  bet  you  the  same  and  double  it,"  said  Hoot. 
"I'd  bet  more  than  that  except  I  'ain't  heard  a  rain- 
crow  lately." 

"I  'ain't,  either,  but  I'll  double  you  and  raise  you 
ten." 

"You  can't  bluff  me,"  said  Hoot,  as  they  were 
passing  the  door.  "I  'ain't  the  kind  that  backs 
out  when  it  begins  to  run  up  into  big  money.  I'll 
double  you  twice  and  dare  you  to  see  it." 

Hoot  was  good  at  anything.  Take  the  two  of  us 
together  and  we  made  a  pretty  good  team. 

"I  accept  your  dare  and  raise  you  fifty.  Now 
what  you  going  to  do  about  it?" 

"I'm  going  to  raise  you  a  hundred — that's  what 
I'm  going  to  do  about  it.  Smell  that  and  see  how 
you  like  it." 

By  that  time  we  had  got  by  the  store.  We  had 
completely  fooled  them. 

Nobody  in  Temptation  knew  what  our  members 
did.  Grown  people  don't  know  much  that's  going 
on,  anyway. 

"Old  people  think  that  all  that's  happening  is 
happening  to  them,"  Hoot  would  say.  "It's  like 
the  ants  and  bugs  running  around  us.  They're  just 
as  busy  living  and  licking  the  fellow  that  squeals 
as  anybody  else,  and  nobody  pays  any  attention  to 
them.  I'll  bet  bugs  and  ants  have  just  as  much 
excitement  among  themselves  as  we  do — only  we 
never  stop  to  notice  them." 

Hoot  was  smart  and  got  better  marks  in  school 

4 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

than  any  other  boy.  He  was  almost  as  good  as 
some  of  the  girls. 

"See  you  to-morrow,"  said  Hoot,  at  the  corner. 

"All  right,"  I  said.  "To-morrow  at  school.  So 
long,  Hoot." 

That  fooled  them  more  than  ever.  None  of  the 
grown  people  knew  that  the  sign  was  out  for  a 
meeting  to-night.  It  is  easy  to  fool  grown-ups. 

After  supper  I  noticed  pap  watching  me  sus- 
piciously. It  wasn't  often  that  he  paid  any  atten- 
tion to  me.  He  would  sit  through  a  meal  with  his 
head  down,  hurrying  so  that  he  could  get  back  to 
Pake's  Place.  The  dust  from  the  mill  was  caked  on 
his  eyelids.  He  wouldn't  stop  to  wash.  Mother 
was  sitting  at  the  table,  once  in  a  while  shooing 
the  flies  away  with  her  peacock  fan.  Mother  had 
come  West  to  marry  pap. 

"What  you  hurryin'  for?"  asked  pap. 

"Nothing,"  I  said. 

"Don't  tell  me  that.     I  reckon  I  got  eyes." 

So  after  supper  I  had  to  get  out  the  clothes- 
line and  slide  down  the  window. 

Pap's  mill  was  a  good  place  to  have  the  meetings. 
We  had  them  in  the  big  room  under  the  water-wheel. 
In  the  daytime  nobody  could  hear  us  for  the  noise; 
at  night  when  it  was  shut  off  nobody  was  there. 

I  slipped  through  the  alleys,  as  the  by-laws  said. 
I  could  look  through  the  back  door  at  the  men  in 
Dutch  Jake's.  One  man  was  showing  how  he  could 
jump  over  a  broomstick  between  his  hands.  Every 
time  he  caught  his  heel  he  would  set  them  up. 
He  was  one  of  Larscom's  men  and  it  was  pay-day. ' 

2  5 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

Two  or  three  Indians  were  standing  outside,  looking 
over  the  swinging-doors,  because  it  was  against  the 
law  to  sell  whisky  to  the  Indians. 

When  I  came  to  the  fifty-yard  line  I  got  down 
on  my  stomach  and  crawled.  No  member  in  good 
standing  would  walk  up  and  knock.  He  wouldn't 
have  been  answered  if  he  had.  I  put  on  my  false 
mustache  and  goatee.  I  had  a  good  goatee.  By 
wetting  it  pretty  often  I  could  keep  it  on,  all  right. 

Then  I  meowed  once  like  a  cat  and  whistled  three 
times  like  a  ground-squirrel. 

While  it  took  to  count  thirteen  there  was  no 
answer — then  a  hoot-owl  sounded. 

"Hoot-owl,  Hoot-owl,"  I  whispered,  putting  my 
mouth  to  the  keyhole,  "a  member  in  good  standing 
awaits.  Open  the — the — the — "  If  I  didn't  get 
the  right  word  I  wouldn't  get  in.  "Hoot,"  I  whis- 
pered, "what  is  that  word?" 

Hoot's  real  name  was  Marvin,  but  nobody  called 
him  that  because  he  was  president  of  our  society 
and  Hoot-owl  was  the  password.  My  name  was 
Turkey  Egg,  because  I  looked  like  one,  but  every- 
body shortened  it  to  Turkey  because  we  didn't 
have  time  for  long  fancy  names. 

I  could  hear  him  putting  his  mouth  to  the  key- 
hole. "You  got  to  think  of  it  yourself  or  you 
can't  get  in." 

"I  can't  think  of  it." 

"I  can't  help  it.  That's  what  the  by-laws  say. 
I  could  be  killed,  accordin'  to  the  constitution,  if  I 
told  you,  and  my  bones  beat  up  and  scattered  along 
the  railroad  track." 

6 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

I  tried  it  again.  "Hoot-owl,  Hoot-owl,  a  mem- 
ber in  good  standing  awaits.  Open  the — the — door." 

"No,  that  ain't  it — anybody  could  have  thought 
of  that." 

Hoot  had  fixed  up  the  password  and  he  had  fixed 
up  a  good  one.  Hoot  never  did  anything  half-way. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  then?    Just  give  me  a  hint." 

"I'll  spell  one  of  the  letters  for  you.  I  guess  there 
ain't  anything  in  the  by-laws  against  that,  is  there, 
men?"  ' 

"No,"  they  answered. 

"Get  ready,  then.    F— " 

"P— what?" 

"0—" 

"That  don't  make  any  sense  yet.  Go  on,  Hoot. 
I  got  to  get  in." 

"R—  " 

"Give  me  one  more,  Hoot.  Then  I  think  I  can 
get  it." 

«  (  '7-         »  » 

"I  got  it,"  I  said.  "Hoot-owl,  Hoot-owl,  a 
member  in  good  standing  awaits.  Open  the  port." 

"Of  course  not,  you  blockhead.  Anybody  could 
have  thought  of  that.  Portal,  you  fool.  Now  say 
it." 

"Hoot-owl,  Hoot-owl,  a  member  in  good  standing 
awaits.  Open  the  portal. ' ' 

With  that  the  door  opened. 

"Hoot,  we  got  to  change  that  word,"  I  said. 

"Kindly  remember  that  you  are  addressing  the 
president." 

"I  don't  care  if  I  am.  We  got  to  change  that 

7 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

word.  I  ain't  going  to  be  kept  out  there  five 
minutes  trying  to  think  of  some  fool  word  you  saw 
in  the  dictionary." 

"Silence.  Advance  and  give  the  countersign  or 
suffer  the  death  a  spy  deserves."  It  was  Hoot 
speaking  down  in  his  lungs  the  way  an  officer  had  to. 

"Wait  till  I  fix  my  goatee.  The  thing  ain't 
been  working  right  since  Scoop  took  it  home  to 
scare  Minnie  with.  'Death  to  the  enemy  and  slit 
their  ears." 

"Correct.  Arise,  member,  and  recognize  a  brother. 
Now  you  can  set  down.  Anybody  got  any  lickorish? " 

Nobody  had,  so  Hoot  had  to  go  on  sucking  his 
slippery  elm. 

The  lodge  was  Hoot's  idea.  It  was  like  the 
vigilantes  for  the  men.  With  all  the  Indians,  cow- 
boys, card  sharps,  prospectors,  bootleggers,  cattle 
•rustlers,  and  Indian  traders  around  somebody  had 
to  protect  things.  There  would  be  a  sound  of  hoofs 
at  night,  a  roar  as  they  whirled  over  the  bridge  and 
next  morning  ma  would  say  I  couldn't  go  out,  be- 
cause there  would  be  a  man,  with  his  feet  tied 
together  and  his  head  drooped  forward,  hanging  to 
a  cottonwood  tree.  That  afternoon  the  coroner 
would  ride  over,  say  it  was  an  accidental  death  and 
two  men  with  spades  over  their  shoulders  would  go 
out  and  bury  the  cattle  thief. 

Nobody  in  Temptation  knew  about  our  lodge 
except  the  members,  and  if  they  told  they  would  be 
killed. 

"Brothers  and  fellow-members,"  said  Hoot,  taking 
his  place  on  the  throne.  "The  sign  was  out  this 

8 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

afternoon.  We  will  proceed  to  business.  Will 
the  brother  that  has  discovered  something  please 
report?" 

"It  was  me,"  said  Scoop  Gooden.  "I  discovered 
it.  Last  night  I  was  coming  back  from  taking  Essie 
down  to  the  Larscoms'  to  stay  all  night  and  it  was 
pretty  late  when  I  come  back,  but  I  had  my  hand 
on  my  knucks.  I  was  whistling,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  I  thought  I  saw  something  move,  and  sure 
enough  I  did.  I  got  behind  a  tumble-weed  and  it 
passed  me.  It  was  Mr.  Hankey — " 

"Mr.  Hankey?" 

"Yes,  old  Teacher  Hankey.  He  was  slipping 
along  the  street  and  I  followed  him,  and  he  went  to 
the  school-house  and  stopped  at  the  basement  door 
and  listened.  He  unlocked  it  and  went  in.  Then 
he  came  out  and  went  away  again.  I  wouldn't 
thought  nothing  about  it  only  the  night  before  I  had 
seen  him  do  the  same  thing.  He  goes  there  every 
night." 

"What  do  you  think  he  does  there?" 

"I  don't  know — I'm  just  reporting,  the  way  a} 
member  in  good  standing  should." 

"Maybe  he  was  getting  ready  for  Board  Day." 

"He  don't  have  to  come  slipping  along  the  street 
at  night  and  unlock  the  basement  door  and  stay 
there  ten  minutes  to  get  ready  for  school  visitors." 

"Where  did  he  go  then?" 

"I  don't  know.     I  got  a  lamming  as  it  was." 

"Brother  Gooden,  you  are  hereby  commanded  to 
follow  Hankey  and  report.  Brother  Bowman,  you 
are  hereby  commanded  to  crawl  up  on  the  shelf 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

and  see  if  his  switches  is  notched.  To-day  when 
he  fanned  me  they  wasn't,  and  I  don't  feel  good 
nowhere." 

Hoot  put  his  hand  where  he  meant  and  I  know 
how  he  felt,  because  almost  every  day  I  got  one,  too. 
Mr.  Hankey  had  worked  in  the  wheat  elevator  before 
he  had  passed  the  examinations  and  got  a  third- 
grade  certificate. 

"Now  we  can  get  something  to  eat,"  said  Hoot. 
"Business  first,  then  pleasure.  That  is  how  I 
always  conduct  these  meetings." 

So  we  slipped  out  to  Mr.  Larscom's  orchard,  but 
he  had  a  bulldog  that  we  didn't  know  about.  We 
would  have  made  it  all  right  only  Hoot  got  his 
pants  caught  in  the  wire.  The  only  way  you  can 
make  a  bulldog  let  loose  is  to  light  a  match  in  front 
of  his  face — 'throwing  water  on  them  doesn't  do  any 
good.  There  ought  to  be  some  better  way  than 
lighting  a  sulphur  match  when  the  wind  is  blowing — 
as  it  mostly  is  at  night — because  every  minute 
counts. 

But  we  had  got  our  clue  all  right.  We  would  find 
out  about  old  Hankey. 


CHAPTER  II 

Hoot  and  I  decide  to  get  rich,  because  it  won't  be  long  till  I  am  shaving. 
I  think  about  having  three  wives  and  holler  and  rub  my  stomach. 

A  FEW  days  later  Hoot  Howden  came  to  me, 
excited.  "I  tell  you  how  we  can  make  some 
money,"  he  said.  Hoot  was  smart  and  had  good 
ideas. 

"All  right,  let  'er  rip,"  I  said,  because  we  always 
talked  that  way  to  each  other.  It  would  not  be 
long  till  we  were  men.  I  could  swear  a  little  already. 

"To-morrow  is  Issue  Day  and  all  the  Indians  will 
be  in  to  the  Agency  store  to  get  their  supplies. 
There  is  going  to  be  a  lot  of  horse-racing  and  while 
they  got  their  money  we  could  get  some  of  it." 

"How?" 

"By  selling  them  something." 

I  was  disappointed,  because  all  we  had  was  a  pair 
of  pants  and  a  shirt  and  my  mole. 

"But  we  'ain't  got  anything  to  sell,"  I  said.  "I 
ain't  going  to  give  up  my  mole." 

"So  you  think  we  'ain't  got  anything  to  sell. 
Well,  then,  just  think  awhile." 

With  that  Hoot  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
rocked  back  on  his  heels  and  stuck  out  his  stomach. 
I  thought,  but  it  didn't  do  any  good.  Usually  I  am 
a  pretty  good  thinker,  but  now  I  was  stuck,  because 

ii 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

it  didn't  make  any  difference  how  much  tanglefoot 
an  Indian  had  he  wouldn't  buy  anything  we  had, 
unless  it  was  my  mustache  cup  that  pap  had  let  me 
have  when  he  had  given  up  shaving.  But  an 
Indian  doesn't  shave.  Once  in  a  while  he  has  some 
hairs  on  his  chin,  but  he  pulls  them  out. 

'Til  give  it  up,"  I  says.  "It  won't  be  long  till 
I'll  be  shaving." 

"We  could  sell  them  lemonade.  We  could  take 
some  tubs  out  where  they're  going  to  race  and  I  bet 
we  could  do  a  pretty  good  business." 

I  bet  we  could,  because  when  an  Indian  has 
money  he  doesn't  hesitate  to  spend  it.  I  was  glad 
that  Hoot  and  I  had  thought  of  it. 

"We  could  take  some  of  the  ice  your  pap  puts  up 
and  get  some  lemons  and  sugar  at  the  Prairie  Queen 
Store.  Then  all  we  need  is  plenty  of  water." 

"All  right,"  I  said,  and  he  got  his  mother's  tub 
and  I  got  ma's  and  we  rinsed  them  out.  We  built 
a  stand  and  bought  some  red  cloth  at  the  Agency 
store,  because  Indians  like  to  have  plenty  of  color, 
and  took  scissors  and  cut  it  up  into  fancy  notches. 

The  next  day  the  Indians  came  in.  They  were 
coming  after  the  beef,  tobacco,  sorghum,  and  clothes 
the  government  gave  them.  Away  off  across  the 
prairies  we  could  see  them  riding  in  single  file,  one 
behind  the  other,  their  feet  dangling.  Some  of 
them  had  fancy  colored  blankets  that  they  them- 
selves had  made,  but  mostly  they  had  a  gray  blanket 
with  U.  S.  on  it.  They  lived  on  the  reservation  and 
were  not  allowed  to  go  off  without  a  pass.  Some  of 
them  farmed,  but  it  was  pretty  thin  scratching. 

12 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Dropping  their  reins  they  came  into  the  Agency 
store,  making  the  sign  and  saying  "How."  Some 
of  the  young  Indians  were  talking  a  little,  but  the 
old  ones  didn't  have  much  to  say.  They  were 
thinking  about  the  old  times  when  the  buffalo  used 
to  be  here. 

"Look,"  said  Hoot,  as  we  were  carrying  the  ice 
out  in  his  Lightning  Express  wagon,  "there  comes 
Plenty  Horses." 

I  was  glad  because  it  would  be  a  big  day  with 
Plenty  Horses  here.  He  was  chief  of  them  all.  He 
was  sitting  stiff  and  straight  on  his  horse,  sad-looking 
in  the  eyes.  He  had  on  a  big  gray  hat  and  buckskin 
clothes.  His  breast  was  covered  with  porcupine 
quills  and  elk  teeth.  His  hair  was  braided,  with  one 
strand  hanging  down  on  each  side  in  front.  Other 
Indians  were  riding  around  him  and  coming  up  to 
touch  him  because  he  was  their  chief  and  knew  what 
the  Great  Spirit  said.  I  bet  you  we  would  sell  a 
lot  of  lemonade  to-day. 

Plenty  Horses  had  on  fancy  moccasins,  because 
he  had  plenty  of  wives  to  make  them  for  him.  It 
made  me  thrill  to  think  of  having  three  wives.  It 
made  me  feel  hot  all  over.  I  wouldn't  have  cared 
very  much  if  I  had  been  an  Indian. 

But  the  Indian  agent  did  not  like  it  very  well 
when  he  saw  Plenty  Horses.  The  agent  did  not 
make  the  sign  and  say  "How."  He  just  looked  at 
him  and  bit  his  lips  into  a  line  because  Plenty 
Horses  had  come  to  our  Agency  to  tell  the  Indians 
about  the  coming  of  the  Messiah.  Plenty  Horses 
did  not  like  the  whites,  because  he  had  been  de- 

13 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

feated,  and  had  had  to  pass  around  the  peace  pipe 
and  sign  the  treaty.  The  younger  Indians  did  not 
mind  it  so  much,  but  Plenty  Horses  could  remember 
when  the  plains  were  covered  with  buffalo.  He  was 
not  as  happy  as  you  would  think  a  man  with  three 
wives  would  be. 

After  they  had  got  their  issue,  several  hundred  of 
them  came  out  to  the  race-track,  beginning  to  talk 
more.  It  was  against  the  law  to  sell  them  whisky, 
but  just  the  same  they  were  getting  talky.  Some 
one  was  bootlegging. 

Lonesome  Charlie,  the  government  scout,  came 
out  to  keep  an  eye  on  them.  He  could  talk  the  sign 
language  and  knew  more  about  Indians  than  any 
other  person  on  the  plains.  He  had  helped  to 
organize  the  Indian  Police,  and  always  carried  his 
rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm.  He  was  proud  of  his 
rifle.  Once  a  rattlesnake  had  bit  him  and  he  had 
drunk  enough  whisky  to  kill  the  poison  and  then  he 
had  taken  its  hide  and  stretched  it  over  his  gun. 
It  had  now  dried  and  shrunk  till  it  was  as  tight  as 
wall-paper. 

We  looked  pretty  nice  in  our  booth  when  the 
Indians  came  up  with  half-moons  painted  on  their 
foreheads.  We  had  on  a  couple  of  pap's  aprons 
and  out  in  front  a  sign : 

LEMONAde 
5  cents  A  Glass 

We  had  drawn  a  picture  of  a  glass  with  a  handle 
on  it  and  a  picture  of  a  nickel  so  that  the  Indians 

14 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

could  read  it.  Some  of  their  children  were  going 
to  the  mission  schools  and  were  learning  to  read, 
but  the  old  ones  couldn't. 

"I'll  bet  you  by  night  we  are  rich  men,"  said  Hoot, 
and  I  bet  you  we  would,  too,  because  the  two  of  us 
that  way  would  be  hard  to  beat.  But  while  we 
were  waiting  Hoot  spoiled  it.  He  went  to  hit  me 
with  his  dead  crow  and  I  dodged  and  it  went  in  the 
lemonade.  We  pulled  it  out,  but  it  should  not  have 
been  in  there  because  it  had  been  dead  longer  than 
a  crow  should  be. 

"Now,  what  we  going  to  do?"  I  asked,  because 
just  as  you  are  about  to  get  rich  it  goes  pretty  hard 
to  have  your  wealth  jerked  away. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Hoot,  as  it  was  his  crow. 
"We'll  put  a  sign  over  this  tub — 'Lemonade  3  cents  a 
glass' — we  don't  need  to  say  why." 

So  we  made  the  sign  and  put  it  up,  drawing  a  pict- 
ure of  three  pennies  so  that  they  would  know  how 
much  it  was.  If  anybody  drank  it  it  was  their  own 
lookout. 

Walking  Thunder  laughed  when  he  saw  us  trying 
to  fish  the  old  dead  crow  out.  He  was  a  farming 
Indian.  He  had  come  out  with  his  squaw  to  see  the 
races  because  living  out  on  a  farm  that  way  there 
wasn't  much  excitement.  His  squaw  had  a  papoose 
on  her  back  and  a  little  boy  four  or  five  years  old 
hanging  on  to  her  skirts.  Everybody  liked  Walking 
Thunder.  He  couldn't  talk  much — all  he  could  do 
was  to  make  signs  and  smile.  It  wasn't  every 
Indian  who  would  smile. 

When  the  Indians  came  up  we  began  to  holler 

15 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

and  point  to  the  tubs  and  then  in  our  mouths,  and 
move  our  Adam's  apples  up  and  down.  I  am  a 
good  hollerer  and  pretty  soon  they  were  swarming 
around  us. 

They  were  getting  ready  for  the  races.  They 
don't  have  any  fancy  starts  and  returns  for  their 
horses.  They  all  get  out  on  a  line  and  one  of  them 
fires  a  pistol  and  away  they  go  for  a  mile,  and  the 
first  horse  across  the  line  is  the  winner.  The  dust 
flies  up,  the  men  throw  their  hats  and  yell,  and  it  is 
exciting. 

But  now  they  didn't  start  in  racing.  They  gath- 
ered around  Plenty  Horses,  the  great  chief.  Straight 
and  tall  he  stood,  talking  to  them. 

"He  means  all  right,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie  and 
then  shook  his  head,  "but  he  can't  quite  get  used  to 
our  ways.  He's  always  thinking  about  the  old  days. 
He's  telling  them  about  the  Messiah  that  he  has 
seen  and  talked  to,  and  how  the  Messiah  has  come 
to  drive  out  the  white  man  and  bring  back  the 
buffalo." 

When  Plenty  Horses  finished  they  crowded  around 
him  just  to  touch  him,  because  they  thought  he  was 
sacred.  Hoot  offered  him  some  of  our  lemonade 
free,  because  it  would  be  good  advertising,  but  he 
shook  his  head.  He  would  not  touch  it  because  it 
had  come  from  the  hand  of  the  white  men. 

After  the  race  Head  Wind,  one  of  the  Indians, 
came  sulking  up.  He  had  pulled  off  his  government 
shirt  for  the  race  and  was  dressed  just  in  his  trousers 
and  moccasins  with  a  feather  woven  in  his  hair  for 
good  luck.  He  was  the  worst  Indian  on  the  reser- 

16 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

vation.  He  never  went  anywhere  without  his  gun 
and  carried  a  trapper's  knife  in  his  pocket.  He 
could  get  whisky  when  none  of  the  rest  of  them 
could,  and  when  he  had  a  few  drinks  he  wanted  to 
fight.  The  agent  had  given  him  plows  and  horses 
to  farm,  but  he  had  thrown  the  plows  in  the  creek 
and  sold  his  horses  to  the  ranchmen.  A  farmer  out 
on  White  Clay  Creek,  coming  back  from  Temptation 
with  his  wheat  money,  disappeared  and  was  never 
heard  of  again.  A  few  days  later  Head  Wind  got  on 
the  biggest  drunk  of  his  life. 

"Right  this  way,"  I  shouted,  pounding  on  the 
counter,  "all  you  can  drink  for  a  nickel.  Step  up 
and  drink  'er  down." 

Lifting  an  imaginary  glass  to  my  lips  I  made  my 
Adam's  apple  go  up  and  down,  grunting  to  show  how 
good  it  was.  Head  Wind  stopped,  turning  his  eye 
from  one  sign  to  the  other.  The  one  of  the  three 
pennies  pleased  him  more,  because  his  horse  had  lost. 

"Heap  good  drinkum?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the 
crow  lemonade. 

"Heap  good,"  I  said,  making  a  noise  in  my 
throat. 

"All  niceum  same?" 

"Heap  good,"  I  said,  so  as  not  to  tell  a  lie. 

"How,"  he  grunted  and  I  filled  up  the  glass  for 
him.  He  drank  it  down,  his  eyes  winking  because 
he  was  surprised  to  find  how  cold  it  was.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  having  anything  cold  in  the 
summer-time.  He  began  to  smile  a  little,  but  even 
a  smile  couldn't  keep  his  dirty,  dusty  face  from 
looking  mean. 

17 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"All  niceum  more,"  he  said,  and  I  filled  up  his 
glass  again.  The  horse-race  had  made  a  good  deal 
of  dust  and  he  was  dry.  Rubbing  his  stomach  he 
drank  some  more. 

"Heap  nice,"  he  said,  smiling  a  little  more  and 
drinking  another  glass.  Hoot  and  I  would  get  rich 
off  him. 

"Yes,  heap  nice,"  I  said,  and  rubbed  my  stomach, 
too.  Head  Wind  had  another  and  then  reaching  in 
his  pocket  brought  out  a  purse  that  his  squaw  had 
made  for  him  with  beads  and  elk  teeth  on  it.  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  how  mean  and  no- 
account  an  Indian  is,  he  can  always  find  a  squaw  to 
work  for  him. 

"How  no  all  same  money?"  he  asked. 

I  looked  at  Hoot  and  Hoot  looked  at  me.  Then 
I  swallowed.  I  began  to  try  to  think  of  some  story 
to  put  him  off  with,  but  before  I  could  get  started 
Walking  Thunder  came  up  and  began  to  explain  in 
Indian  language,  making  signs.  It  was  a  good  joke 
to  him  and  he  laughed  big,  but  it  wasn't  to  Head 
Wind — he  had  done  the  drinking.  The  crow  was 
sacred  to  him. 

Head  Wind's  face  began  to  grow  black,  because 
he  could  not  bear  to  be  laughed  at. 

"White  man  devil  trick.  Why  makeum  fool 
Head  Wind?"  His  long  arm  shot  out  to  seize  me, 
but  I  dodged  him.  "Pale  face  no  more  makeum 
devil  trick,"  he  said,  and  bending  over,  he  upset 
both  tubs.  "Injun  time  to  laugh  now." 

A  harsh  laugh  cackled  in  his  throat.  Turning,  he 
started  away.  Picking  up  a  piece  of  ice  I  threw  it 

18 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

as  hard  as  I  could,  the  piece  hitting  him  between  the 
shoulders.  Whirling  he  came  back  at  me,  his  face 
in  a  rage.  Into  his  pocket  went  his  hand  and  out 
came  his  trapper's  knife.  He  touched  the  spring  and 
the  long,  thin  blade  sprang  open. 

Bending  over  I  picked  up  another  piece  of  ice  and 
drew  back  my  arm.  But  Head  Wind  stopped  and 
his  eyes  began  to  bat.  He  had  never  before  seen  ice 
in  summer.  He  thought  that  by  some  magic  power 
I  had  turned  the  water  into  ice.  I  was  a  medicine- 
man. Turning,  he  rushed  away,  making  signs  to 
keep  off  the  evil  spirits. 

When  I  told  Lonesome  Charlie  about  it  he  was 
pleased.  "That  was  pretty  slick,"  he  said,  and  then 
he  looked  thoughtful. 


CHAPTER  III 

Hoot  tears  his  pants  and  pastes  a  gorilla  in  the  eye  down  by  the  feed- 
store.  Hoot  is  all  right,  but  he  is  too  fond  of  making  an  impression 
on  the  opposite  sex.  I  catch  some  flies  with  my  maple  sugar  and 
learn  the  proper  way  to  act  around  the  ladies. 

HPHE  Indians  went  back  to  their  reservation,  but 
1  the  agent  called  in  Lonesome  Charlie  for  a  long 
talk.  Plenty  Horses  was  going  everywhere  among 
the  Indians  telling  them  of  the  coming  of  the  Mes- 
siah, and  how  He  would  bring  back  the  buffalo. 
But  Hoot  and  I  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  the 
Messiah  talk  because,  going  to  school  a  few  mornings 
later,  we  saw  her.  She  was  walking  along  carrying 
her  books,  her  sponge  hanging  by  a  string.  It  was 
the  biggest  sponge  I  ever  saw.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  rich.  I  am  quick  to  see  such  things. 

She  was  a  new  girl  in  school. 

''Who's  that?"  asks  Hoot. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  says. 

"I  bet  you  I  find  out,"  he  says,  and  with  that  he 
began  to  show  off. 

We  had  been  walking  along  talking  of  the  best  way 
to  bootleg,  till  he  saw  her,  and  then  he  began  to 
laugh.  "Ha-ha-ha!  That  was  a  good  one!  Ha- 
ha-ha!"  But  she  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him. 
I  could  see  that  she  was  a  lady. 

20 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

There  were  dozens  of  other  girls  going  to  school, 
but  Hoot  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  them — a  new 
one  seemed  so  much  more  wonderful  to  him.  He 
wanted  to  be  the  first  one  to  get  acquainted  with  the 
new  girl. 

Slipping  up  behind  her  he  put  his  fingers  in  his 
mouth  and  whistled.  But  she  didn't  jump.  For 
all  the  way  she  acted,  she  might  have  been  deaf. 

Hoot  hurried  on  by  her  and  waited  in  front  of  the 
harness-store,  looking  through  the  window,  but  she 
didn't  stop.  She  walked  on,  not  noticing  him  any 
more  than  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  holes  in  the 
fly-net. 

But  that  didn't  discourage  Hoot.  There  wasn't 
anything  that  discouraged  him  when  the  ladies 
were  around.  He  liked  to  make  an  impression  on 
the  opposite  sex.  You  take  the  two  of  us  together 
and  we  make  a  pretty  lively  team.  What  Hoot 
can't  think  of  I  can. 

"Look  what  I  can  do,"  said  Hoot  so  that  he 
could  be  heard  clear  to  the  First  National  Bank. 
"I  can  pick  up  three  hazelnuts  with  my  toes  at 
once!" 

But  the  new  girl  didn't  look.  As  far  as  she  was 
concerned,  Hoot  might  just  as  well  have  been  at  the 
equator. 

"An*  I  can  pick  up  my  knife,  too." 

Hoot  got  out  his  knife  and  ran  on  ahead  and  put  it 
on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  her.  Then  he  hopped 
around  it,  making  his  breath  come  hard  every  time 
he  lit,  but  she  didn't  notice  him.  "Now  I'll  pick  it 
up  and  drop  it  in  my  hat." 
3  21 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

The  girl  passed  on  by  as  if  Hoot  had  been  a 
hitching-post. 

But  that  didn't  discourage  Hoot,  because  he  was 
naturally  a  ladies'  man.  Running  around  in  front 
of  her  he  yelled  back  to  me,  "Would  you  like  to 
know  how  to  fight  a  gorilla?" 

"Yes,"  I  says. 

"All  right  then,  watch." 

Laying  down  his  books  he  leaped  at  an  imaginary 
gorilla,  smashed  it  one  in  the  nose  and  then  began  to 
kick  it,  panting  and  puffing,  but  the  girl  walked  on, 
looking  at  the  top  of  the  Methodist  church. 

"Now  he's  trying  to  get  me  in  his  arms  and  this 
is  what  I  do.  See!  Just  as  he  thinks  he  is  getting 
the  best  of  me  I  get  him  by  the  throat  with  both 
hands  .  .  .  like  this.  He  jumps  up  and  down  and 
tries  to  get  his  claws  into  me,  but  I  don't  let  him. 
Now  he  has  the  best  of  me  .  .  .  now  I  have  the  best 
of  him.  Now  he's  got  my  hand  in  his  mouth.  He's 
bit  it  till  it  hangs  down  at  my  side  like  this.  Now  I 
got  to  fight  him  with  one  hand.  I  land  him  one  in 
the  eye,  then  I  miss  him.  All  the  little  monkeys  in 
the  trees  are  chattering  because  they  are  scared,  but 
we  fight  on.  I  hit  him  again.  He's  getting  weaker, 
and  is  about  to  sink.  I  have  him,  but  look !  look ! — 
his  mate  is  rushing  up!  Now  I  got  to  fight  two  of 
'em!  I  pick  up  a  club,  but  it's  rotten.  I  knock  one 
gorilla  down  and  he  gets  up  and  comes  at  me,  his 
eyes  shinin'  and  his  teeth  snappin'.  With  that  I 
pick  up  a  handful  of  dust  and  throw  it  in  his  eyes." 

Bending  over,  Hoot  picked  up  a  handful  and 
lammed  it  against  the  feed-store. 

22 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"The  gorilla  begins  pawing  at  the  dust  and  squeal- 
ing brrr — brrr — rrrr — and  I  pick  up  another  handful 
and  throw  it  in  the  eyes  of  the  other  one.  They  both 
come  at  me  at  once,  but  I  leap  out  of  the  way,  and 
they  begin  fighting  each  other.  They  think  they 
are  fighting  me  because  I  keep  yelling  out,  'Hey,  stop 
that!  You're  killing  me!  I'll  paste  you  one  in  the 
eye  yet ! '  Then  I  let  my  voice  get  weaker,  like  this. 
1 1  can't  stand  it  much  longer.  I'm  getting  weaker . . . 
and  weaker  .  .  .  Oooouch!'  Now  they're  so  weak 
they're  beginning  to  reel.  They  got  the  blind 
staggers  now."  Hoot  showed  how  a  gorilla  with  the 
blind  staggers  acted.  It  was  pretty  bad.  "And 
then  I  reach  over  and  pick  up  a  stone  .  .  .  and  brain 
'em  with  it.  It  ain't  any  trick  at  all,  because  they've 
fought  themselves  to  death."  But  the  girl  didn't 
notice.  She  just  walked  on  with  her  eyes  on  the 
roof  of  the  church. 

But  Hoot  wasn't  going  to  let  her  get  by  without 
noticing.  "I'll  bet  I  can  beat  you  climbin'  a  tree," 
he  yelled  to  me. 

With  that  he  ran  on  ahead  and  hitching  up  his 
pants  began  to  climb  a  water-maple.  Hoot  was  a 
good  climber  and  could  chin  himself  twelve  times, 
but  she  didn't  pay  any  attention  to  him.  She 
walked  on  with  her  eyes  on  the  ridge-pole. 

Hoot  come  sliding  down  and  when  he  got  within 
three  feet  of  the  ground  he  jumped.  "Gee  whiz," 
he  said,  putting  his  hand  to  the  place,  "I  ripped  her 
good  that  time!  Hole  right  here  in  the  seat  of  my 
best  pants." 

With  that  the  new  girl  looked  around. 

23 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Hoot,  when  he  saw  that  she  was 
getting  sympathetic,  "I  ripped  a  big  one — regular  ole 
snaggle-cut." 

With  that  the  new  girl  opened  her  lips.  "Is — is  it 
a  very  big  one?" 

It  made  me  feel  good  to  hear  her  speak,  because 
she  had  a  nice  voice.  Hoot  and  I  were  winning  her. 
When  we  start  in  to  do  a  thing  we  usually  get  it 
done. 

"I  should  say  so.  I  can  put  my  hand  through  it. 
You  can  put  yours  through,  too,  if  you  want  to." 

"No,  thank  you.  Do  you  think  vour  mother 
will  scold  you?" 

Hoot  saw  that  he  was  playing  on  her  sympathy. 
"She'll  lam  me — that's  what  she'll  do.  And  then 
pa'll  lam  me  and  I'll  have  to  go  to  bed  without  any 
supper." 

' '  I'm  awfully  sorry.  Couldn't  you  explain  things  ? ' ' 

Hoot  saw  that  he  had  her  and  he  began  to  paint 
it  up.  "Pa  says  I  been  explainin'  things  all  my 
life,  and  it  won't  go  any  more.  And  then  he'll  take 
me  out  behind  the  coal-house  and  tan  me  right, 
because  I  already  got  one  coming  to  me.  And  then 
ma' 11  lam  me,  but  I  don't  mind  her  as  much  as  I 
do  pa." 

The  way  Hoot  talked  his  pa  was  the  worst  lammer 
in  town,  but  he  wasn't  any  worse  than  any  of  the 
rest  of  them.  All  our  pas  lammed  us  because  that 
was  the  way  they  believed.  The  way  Hoot  talked 
his  pa  would  just  about  cripple  him  for  life.  I  wish 
Hoot  wouldn't  stretch  things  that  way  because  it 
isn't  fair  to  the  other  fellow. 

24 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"And  then  when  pa  and  ma  get  through  with  me 
my  aunt  will  fan  me,  too,  and  then  my  half-sister. 
My  half-sister  don't  fan  very  hard,"  here  Hoot 
stopped  to  choke,  "but  she  keeps  it  up  a  long  time. 
I'd  just  about  as  soon  have  a  good  fast  lamming  as  a 
long  drug-out  one." 

Hoot  began  to  choke  up  at  the  prospect  of  what 
was  going  to  happen  to  him — and  especially  when 
he  saw  that  the  new  girl  was  getting  more  and 
more  sympathetic. 

"Pa  always  was  fond  of  these  pants.  They  be- 
longed to  him  and  it  was  six  years  before  he  would 
consent  for  them  to  be  cut  down  for  me.  They're 
his  wedding  pants.  That's  the  reason  he  thinks  so 
much  of  them.  When  he  sees  this  hole  in  them  he'll 
skin  me  alive."  Hoot  choked  back  a  sob.  He 
was  a  natural-born  actor — and  especially  when  he 
thought  he  was  advancing  his  cause  with  the  ladies. 
"I  may  be  crippled  for  life  and  have  to  go  around  in 
a  wheel-chair  like  ole  man  Hardesty.  I'll  have  to 
help  with  the  housework  and  sell  suspenders."  At 
the  prospect  of  it  Hoot  choked  up  more  than  ever 
and  wiped  away  a  tear.  "I  won't  ever  be  able  to 
get  married  because  no  one  will  have  me.  I'll  just 
have  to  set  around  and  see  everybody  else  getting 
married  and  peel  potatoes." 

"Do  you  think  your  father  would  whip  you  if  you 
had  it  sewed  up?" 

Hoot  thought  for  a  moment.  I  could  see  that  he 
had  a  plan. 

"No,  I  don't  think  he  would.  In  fact,  I'm  sure 
he  wouldn't,  but  I  can't  sew." 

25 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"I  can.  I'll  borrow  a  needle  and  thread  from  one 
of  the  teachers  and  fix  it  up  for  you.  It  may  not 
be  very  good  sewing,  but — " 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Hoot,  beginning  to  stand 
up  close  to  her  as  if  she  was  already  his.  "Pa 
don't  care  what  kind  of  sewing  it  is  just  so  it's 
done." 

"Then  I'll  fix  it  for  you.  It  won't  be  very  fancy, 
but  it  '11  hold." 

"Pa  would  give  me  a  lamming  if  it  was  too  fancy. 
He  don't  allow  us  to  put  on  airs.  He  says  he  never 
knowed  a  dude  to  turn  out  well.  I  never  saw  a 
man  so  set  against  dudes  as  pa  is.  My  name  is 
Marvin  Howden,  but  they  call  me  Hoot.  You  may 
call  me  Hoot  if  you  like." 

"I  like  Marvin  better.     I'll  call  you  that." 

"I  like  it  better,  too.  We  like  the  same  things, 
don't  we?" 

"My  name  is  Addie  Mingo.  We've  moved  into 
the  new  house  down  by  the  reservoir." 

They  went  on  down  the  street  holding  hands.  It 
made  me  feel  disappointed  in  Hoot,  because  we  were 
sworn  friends.  It  just  looks  as  if  in  this  world  you 
can't  trust  anybody. 

I  tried  to  study,  but  I  couldn't  get  much  done 
because  Mr.  Hankey  put  Addie  right  across  from 
me.  She  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  school.  The  hum 
of  the  school  was  going  on  with  the  students  swinging 
their  feet  and  their  pencils  scratching  on  their  slates 
and  somebody  going  to  the  window  to  beat  the  dust 
out  of  an  eraser.  Mr.  Hankey  was  sitting  in  his 
chair  with  his  knee  lopped  over  the  side,  his  glasses 

26 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

roosting  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  following  the  words 
with  his  long  bony  finger. 

I  would  be  trying  to  think  what  the  Mississippi 
River  flowed  into  when  the  first  thing  I  knew  I 
would  be  thinking  about  Addie.  The  things  that 
are  easy  for  me  to  think  of  I  shouldn't,  and  the  things 
I  should  think  of  I  never  can  keep  my  mind  on.  I 
am  that  way. 

Then  I  noticed  that  Hoot  was  cutting  up  monkey- 
shines.  That  was  his  way  of  winning  a  lady.  He 
was  tearing  out  his  fly-leaves  and  chewing  them  till 
they  were  gummy  and  then  flipping  them  against 
the  ceiling.  Every  time  he  sent  up  a  ball  Addie 
would  look  to  see  if  it  stuck,  because  anybody  would 
want  to  know. 

So  I  began  to  show  her  how  I  could  catch  flies. 
I  got  out  my  spelling-book,  bit  off  a  piece  of  maple 
sugar,  made  it  good  and  sticky  and  waited.  It 
wasn't  any  time  till  a  fly  came  along.  Once  you 
get  them  to  eating  with  their  heads  down  and  their 
feet  up  on  their  backs  you  got  'em. 

"I  got  him,"  I  said,  and  put  a  mark  on  my  slate. 
Every  time  I  got  one  I  would  make  a  mark.  When 
I  got  five  I  would  run  a  line  through  so  that  they 
would  be  easy  for  Addie  to  count.  Pretty  soon  she 
was  watching  me  instead  of  Hoot,  because  I  was  the 
best  fly-catcher  in  school.  I  had  got  it  down  to 
more  of  a  science.  Scoop  Gooden  and  some  of  them 
started  in  then,  but  they  didn't  get  many.  They 
didn't  know  about  the  maple  sugar.  I  kept  that 
secret.  Maple  sugar  is  best  because  what  is  left  you 
can  always  eat. 

27 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Six,"  I  said,  marking  it  down. 

If  I  could  only  get  three  at  a  time.  That  would 
win  her !  I'll  bet  she  never  knew  anybody  who  could 
catch  three  at  a  time.  I  was  herding  them  in  and 
shooing  them  over  when  Mr.  Hankey  pulled  his  specs 
down  on  his  nose. 

"Harold  Bowman!" 

I  began  to  study  as  hard  as  I  could. 

"Harold  Bowman — you  heard  me!" 

"Yes,  sir — I  do  now." 

"Come  here." 

Slipping  the  sugar  back  in  my  slate  box  for  the 
next  time,  I  walked  down  the  aisle. 

"You  may  hold  down  a  nail-head  for  a  while. 
Maybe  then  you  won't  attract  so  much  attention 
from  your  neighbors." 

Holding  down  a  nail-head  was  slow  torture. 
Bending  over  with  my  knees  stiff  I  put  my  finger  on 
a  nail-head,  and  it  made  the  school  laugh  because  in 
whatever  direction  I  turned  my  patches  were  there. 
When  I  would  begin  to  sag  he  would  stiffen  me  up 
with  his  ruler,  but  I  couldn't  stand  it  always.  Pretty 
soon  the  room  began  to  whirl  around  and  the  buckets 
on  the  shelves  were  standing  on  the  wrong  end. 
Then  I  tumbled  down  in  a  heap. 

"Maybe  you  would  like  to  sit  down  right  now," 
said  Mr.  Hankey  when  I  came  out. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  would." 

"Then  you  may  sit  with  the  girls."  Twisting  his 
hand  in  my  collar  he  led  me  back.  "You  may  sit 
with  our  new  pupil." 

I  was  disgraced. 

28 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Hanging  her  head  Addie  began  to  study. 

1 '  Slide  over,  Addie,  and  let  Sister  in  with  you." ' 

That  made  the  school  laugh  more  than  ever — 
especially  Hoot.  He  was  getting  so  that  anything 
would  make  him  laugh. 

Addie  held  her  geography  up  in  front  of  her  face 
and  never  took  her  eyes  off  it.  After  a  while  the 
school  quieted  down  and  I  began  to  ease  over  in  my 
seat.  She  was  easier  to  sit  with  than  I  had  supposed 
a  girl  would  be.  Pretty  soon  I  found  that  we  could 
both  study  out  of  the  same  book. 

"Got  a  pin?"  I  whispered.  "I'll  show  you  what 
I  can  do." 

She  reached  around  behind  her  and  there  it  was. 

"Now  watch,"  I  said,  and  ran  it  through  my 
wart. 

It  made  her  draw  in  her  breath  and  scrooge  in  her 
seat.  I  guess  she  would  see  that  I  was  somebody. 

"Look  at  this,"  I  said,  and  ran  another  one  in 
from  the  other  side.  Then  I  made  them  jiggle. 

"Doesn't  it  hurt  awfully?"  she  asked,  kind  of 
awed.  She  would  see  that  Hoot  Howden  wasn't 
the  only  person  in  the  world.  The  world  was  full 
of  people  and  a  lot  of  us  were  just  as  smart  as  he  was. 

"Some,"  I  said —  "but  a  fellow's  got  to  expect 
that." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  stand  it." 

"It  ain't  anything.  You  can  pinch  me  as  hard  as 
you  want  to  and  I  won't  cry." 

She  tried  it  and  I  didn't. 

"Tell  me  when  it  hurts." 

"It  won't  ever  hurt.     Do  it  harder." 

29 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

She  pinched  some  more,  but  not  very  much,  be- 
cause she  was  beginning  to  love  me. 

"I'm  afraid  it  will  hurt  you." 

' '  I  don't  care  if  it  does — it  ain't  anything  to  me.  You 
can  pinch  till  there's  a  red  spot  and  I  won't  scream." 

She  wouldn't  do  it,  so  I  pinched  myself  till  it 
was  good  and  red.  "There — look  at  that!" 

The  skin  was  red  and  slow  about  going  back. 

She  began  to  smooth  it  out.  Just  as  she  got  it 
smoothed  out  I  would  pinch  it  up  again.  All  I  had 
to  do  was  to  give  myself  a  good  hard  pinch  and  she 
would  take  hold  of  my  hand  and  rub  it  out.  Then 
pretty  soon  I  took  hold  of  her  hand  and  she  let  it 
stay  there.  Hoot  was  shooting  his  paper  wads  as 
fast  as  he  could,  but  let  him! — nobody  was  paying 
any  attention  to  him. 

"Give  me  your  slate  and  I'll  write  something  for 
you,"  I  said.  It  was  a  double  one  with  red  edges 
bound  with  black  shoestring.  Addie  had  the  best 
of  everything.  I  would  be  a  lawyer  when  I  grew  up. 

Opening  it  I  wrote,  "What  word  has  four  letters 
and  begins  with  L  and  everybody  would  like  to  have 
it?"  Then  I  folded  it  up  and  gave  it  to  her. 

She  looked  at  it  a  moment,  then  wrote:   "Luck." 

"No,  that  ain't  it.  It's  something  they  can't  get 
along  without." 

"And  it  begins  with  L?" 

"Yes." 

"And  has  four  letters?" 

"Yes." 

"I  know  what  it  is."  With  that  she  took  the 
slate  and  wrote:  "L-u-n-g." 

30 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

"No,  not  that.  A  lung  ain't  anything.  It's 
something  that  everybody  needs." 

"Something  they  can't  get  along  without?" 

"Yes,  something  that  nobody  can  get  along 
without." 

"I  know  what  it  is,"  she  whispered,  excitedly. 
"It'sL-a-r-d!" 

"No,  of  course  not.  Nobody  gives  a  hang  about 
lard.  You  can  buy  that.  This  is  something  you 
can't  buy." 

"Where  do  you  get  it,  then?" 

"People  give  it  to  you." 

"Just  give  it  to  you  and  don't  charge  anything?" 

"No,  not  one  cent." 

"Why  don't  they?" 

"Because,"  I  says,  "they  don't  want  to." 

"Why  don't  they  want  to?" 

"Because — well,  I  don't  know.  But  nobody 
charges  for  it." 

"Is  it  free  then?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  why  does  everybody  want  it?" 

It  was  getting  hard  to  explain.  "Because  they 
do.  Things  are  that  way." 

"I'd  like  to  know  what  it  is,  then." 

'Til  write  it  for  you.     It's  L  O  V  E." 

"Oh,"  she  said,  disappointed,  and  it  didn't  seem 
much  after  all  that  talk.  "I  don't  know  anything 
about  it." 

"I'll  teach  you.  I'll  rub  it  out  and  show  you  how 
to  use  the  word  in  a  sentence." 

I  was  going  to  lick  my  hand  and  erase  it  the  way 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

anybody  would,  when  she  handed  me  her  sponge. 
"Use  that — it's  nicer." 

That  was  me — never  knowing  the  proper  way  to 
act  around  the  ladies.  I'll  bet  you  I  get  a  sponge 
to-morrow  and  no  more  spitting  for  me.  Let  Hoot 
and  Scoop  and  Spide  and  the  rest  of  them  do  it  if 
they  want  to — but  no  more  of  it  for  me.  I  would 
be  refined. 

Taking  the  slate  I  turned  up  one  side  so  that  she 
couldn't  see  and  wrote  it  with  all  the  flourishes  I 
could.  Then  Hankey  looked  up. 

"I'll  just  take  that  slate.  It's  doing  entirely  too 
much  passing  back  and  forth." 

With  that  he  took  the  slate  and  held  it  up  so  that 
everybody  could  see.  There  in  big  fancy  letters 
with  shaded  strokes  was  what  I  had  written: 

I  Love  You  with  all 
my  Heart  and  Sole. 

The  whole  school  giggled  and  especially  Hoot 
Howden.  He  could  hardly  control  himself.  He  put 
his  hand  over  his  mouth,  but  it  spurted  out  the  sides 
in  snorts  and  wisps.  Just  a  few  days  ago  we  had 
been  partners  selling  lemonade  to  the  Indians  and 
going  to  be  friends  all  our  life,  and  now  he  was 
acting  this  way.  It  was  sickening. 

I  had  to  stay  in  after  school  and  write  soul  a 
hundred  times,  because  it  is  not  spelled  the  way  you 
would  think.  I  stayed  in,  but  a  woman  isn't  going 
to  love  a  man  just  because  he  can  make  a  few  paper 
wads  stick  to  the  ceiling. 

32 


CHAPTER  IV 

/  get  down  behind  my  geography  and  look  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  and 
Mr,  Hankey's  nostrils  begin  to  heave.  Head  Wind  sits  down  on 
his  Waapoo  and  I  decide  that  I  am  through  with  women. 


next  morning  as  I  walked  to  school  I  noticed 
A  more  Indians  than  ever  on  the  street.  They 
were  standing  around,  some  with  blankets  on  and 
some  with  their  government  clothes,  with  greasy 
feathers  sticking  in  their  hats,  once  in  a  while  eating 
a  handful  of  New  Orleans  sugar.  They  were  talking 
about  the  Messiah  and  how  some  day  the  land  would 
belong  to  them  again.  They  were  talking  and 
grunting  more  than  I  had  ever  seen  them,  and  I  have 
been  in  Temptation  a  long  time. 

It  was  all  I  could  do  to  remember  when  we  had 
come  to  Temptation,  and  I  am  pretty  good  at  remem- 
bering things,  too.  You  take  anything  you  want 
remembered  and  if  it  isn't  history  or  geography  or 
something  that  way  I  can  remember  it.  I  can  re- 
member every  fight  that  ever  took  place  and  who 
licked  and  if  their  pa  and  ma  found  it  out. 

Ma  was  a  school-teacher  and  she  married  pap  be- 
cause he  was  always  a  good  talker,  and  then  they  got 
in  a  covered  wagon  and  came  west  to  get  rich. 
Once  in  a  while,  sitting  up  on  the  front  seat  ma  would 

33 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

cry  because  she  was  leaving  all  her  people  behind, 
but  pap  would  take  his  lines  in  his  other  hand  and 
put  his  arm  around  her  and  tell  her  how  it  wouldn't 
be  long  till  they  would  be  rich  and  have  everything 
they  wanted.  Then  pap  would  get  out  and  cut  some 
wood  and  ma  would  put  the  sticks  on  the  fire  with 
the  light  dancing  on  her  rings;  but  now  the  rings 
were  all  gone,  because  we  had  never  got  rich.  Pap 
was  always  going  to  be  rich  to  morrow,  but  ma's 
people  had  to  keep  sending  her  things.  But  ma  was 
getting  so  she  didn't  cry  much  any  more.  She 
would  just  put  her  arm  around  me  and  bury  her 
face  in  my  neck  and  then  after  a  while  she  would  get 
up  and  go  on  with  her  work.  She  used  to  have  a 
piano,  and  I  guess  she  was  a  pretty  good  musi- 
cian, because  whatever  she  tackled  she  did  well. 
Everybody  was  always  saying  how  much  alike  we 
was. 

Word  had  come  back  that  out  West  anybody  could 
get  rich,  because  the  land  was  new  and  you  could 
get  it  for  almost  nothing,  and  that  all  you  had  to  do 
to  make  a  thing  grow  was  to  stick  it  in  the  ground, 
but  nobody  said  anything  about  the  hot  winds  and 
dry  years.  There  weren't  many  houses  when  we 
came  out,  but  pretty  soon  they  began  to  speckle  the 
country,  the  men  coming  in  snapping  their  black- 
snakes  and  laughing.  But  it  wouldn't  be  long  till 
they  would  be  sitting  around  with  their  head  in  their 
hands,  cussing.  Getting  rich  on  the  prairies  wasn't 
any  easy  thing. 

The  sun  would  come  boiling  down  in  the  summer 
and  then  in  the  winter  the  blizzards  would  howl  and 

34 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

roar,  while  the  man  scratched  the  frost  off  the  win- 
dow-pane and  tried  to  see  the  barn.  When  the 
wind  would  die  down  for  a  moment  he  would  hear 
the  cattle  bawling,  and  he  would  grip  his  hands  and 
his  throat  would  swell,  but  he  couldn't  go  out, 
because  he  would  be  lost.  When  the  storm  was  over 
he  would  shovel  his  way  out;  the  cattle  would  be 
piled  up  on  top  of  each  other  stiff  and  he  would  be 
set  back  another  year. 

Then  one  of  the  children  would  get  sick  and  the 
man  would  bring  his  horse  out  of  the  stable  at  night 
and  with  a  lantern  on  his  arm  would  ride  over  the 
hills  to  the  nearest  town,  and  when  he  got  back  his 
wife  would  be  down  on  her  knees  before  two  chairs 
with  pillows  across  them,  and  when  he  came  in  she 
wouldn't  look  up.  When  the  storm  was  over  a  few 
neighbors  would  come  in,  and  they  would  go  across 
the  fields  to  a  grove  on  a  hilltop,  and  when  the  first 
clods  hit  they  would  have  to  hold  her  to  keep  her 
from  jumping  in  herself. 

Pap  had  tried  one  thing  after  another,  and  now 
he  was  running  a  grist-mill.  When  he  had  bought 
the  mill  and  had  got  ma's  people  to  go  on  the  mort- 
gage he  had  said,  "Now  we're  going  to  be  rich,"  but 
we  didn't.  Then  pap  had  taken  to  drinking  and 
when  he  got  home  he  would  slam  the  door  till  the 
frosted  deer  rattled.  Then  ma  would  bring  his 
victuals  and  he  would  eat  off  a  corner  of  the  table, 
leaning  his  head  on  his  hand. 

When  I  got  to  school  Hoot  was  trying  to  show  off 
before  Addie. 

"I  got  the  worst  lamming  of  my  life  last  night," 

35 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

he  was  saying  to  her.  "Pa  said  he  wouldn't  had  a 
hole  in  his  wedding  pants  for  a  hundred  dollars. 
He  said  they  was  the  only  pair  of  wedding  pants  he 
ever  had  and  he  didn't  know  when  he  would  ever 
have  any  more.  Then  he  took  me  out  behind  the 
woodshed." 

"You  poor  thing!"  said  Addie. 

With  that  Hoot  began  to  spread  himself.  "When 
he  saw  the  hole  in  his  pants  he  began  to  cry.  He 
would  cry  awhile,  then  he  would  whip  me.  Then 
he  would  cry  some  more  and  turn  me  over  on  his 
other  knee.  He  said  it  brought  it  all  back  to  him — 
that  happy  day  when  him  and  ma  had  got  married. 
He'd  kept  his  pants  in  moth  balls  for  years,  then  to 
have  them  ruined  that  way.  It  was  more  than  he 
could  stand.  With  that  he  lammed  me  some  more 
and  said  that  sons  was  always  a  disappointment  in 
life."  Once  in  a  while  Hoot  would  motion  where. 

If  I  had  to  win  a  lady  that  way  I  would  die  a 
hermit. 

"I  want  you  to  study  hard  for  Visitors*  Day," 
said  Mr.  Hankey,  "because  we  are  going  to  have 
many  famous  and  distinguished  guests.  The  School 
Board  will  be  here  and  Congressman  Butterfield  is 
going  to  make  a  speech.  When  the  Board  asks  you 
a  question  I  want  you  to  answer  up  quickly  and 
properly." 

The  Board  was  the  one  that  hired  him. 

At  recess  Hoot  began  to  show  off  again.  Hoot 
was  all  right  at  lodge  meetings,  breaking  calves,  or 
cooking  grasshoppers,  but  when  it  came  to  girls  I 
didn't  want  anything  to  do  with  him.  He  always 

36 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

wanted  everything  to  himself.  As  soon  as  we  got 
out  on  the  playground  he  began  running  around 
knocking  other  people's  hats  off  and  yelling  and 
trying  to  show  off  his  charms. 

Every  time  I  would  get  Addie  off  to  one  side  he 
would  come  tearing  by,  swinging  his  arms  and  yell- 
ing, "Runaway  train,  runaway  train — who's  going 
to  stop  her?"  But  I  didn't — I  just  let  him  go  on 
by.  Then  back  he  would  come,  pretending  to  be  a 
locoed  horse. 

"All  right,  Mr.  Smarty,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I'll 
fix  you  yet.  I  got  something  that  you  don't  know 
anything  about." 

It  was  wild-cherry  gum.  I  had  got  it  in  Lars- 
corn's  pasture,  and  I  had  put  it  in  my  pill-box  so 
that  dirt  or  flies  or  anything  that  way  wouldn't  get 
into  it,  because  girls  are  particular  about  such  things. 
I  would  give  it  to  her  free  of  charge.  I  guess  that 
would  win  her,  and  especially  when  it  was  good 
fresh  gum  and  not  chewed  too  much  or  anything. 
Getting  down  behind  my  geography  I  looked  out 
of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  the  way  I  got  myself  trained 
to  do.  When  Hankey  wasn't  looking  I  began 
pushing  the  box  toward  her  with  my  love,  but  I 
didn't  get  it  all  the  way  because  Hoot  grabbed  it. 
I  was  his  best  friend  and  always  stood  up  for  him 
and  said  he  licked,  and  now  this  was  the  way  he  was 
treating  me.  I  was  getting  about  enough  of  him. 

Putting  my  new  gum  in  his  mouth  he  began  to 

chew  it.     It  was  all  I  could  bear  to  see  something 

intended  for  her  sweet,  innocent  lips  being  chewed 

by  old  Hoot.    He  wouldn't  chew  it  politely,  but 

4  37 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

etretcned  it  out  and  worked  it  around  with  his 
tongue.  It  was  sickening.  Then  he  began  to  cut 
fancy  stunts.  Just  chewing  it  wasn't  enough  for 
him.  He  began  wadding  it  up  into  a  ball  and 
throwing  it  up  into  the  air  and  catching  it  in  his 
mouth.  He  began  throwing  it  higher  and  higher  and 
looking  around  to  see  if  Addie  was  admiring  him. 
Then  I  grabbed  at  it,  and  would  have  got  it  except 
that  it  came  down  on  top  of  the  stove.  The  gum 
hadn't  any  more  than  lit  than  it  began  to  smell. 
It  began  to  get  thinner  and  thinner  with  bubbles 
coming  up. 

Mr.  Hankey  lifted  his  head  and  his  nostrils  began 
to  move.  There  is  nothing  that  smells  worse  than 
burning  chewing-gum  unless  it  is  asafetida,  so  he 
came  straight  up  to  the  stove.  There  it  was  cooking, 
with  part  of  it  run  down  in  the  lifter-hole. 

"Who  did  that?" 

Nobody  answered. 

"Who  did  that?"  he  asked,  louder  than  before, 
trying  to  poke  it  off  with  a  stick  of  kindling.  But 
it  wouldn't  poke  because  it  was  burned  too  tight. 

Walking  back  he  began  looking  through  his 
switches.  Picking  out  the  biggest  one  he  bent  its 
tip  around  to  its  stock.  It  should  have  been 
notched. 

"I'm  going  to  ask  just  once  more — who  did  that?" 

I  looked  at  Addie.  She  was  trembling  and  her 
eyes  were  staring.  This  was  my  chance.  I  would 
be  a  hero  in  her  eyes.  I'd  let  her  see  the  difference 
between  Hoot  and  me.  Then  it  wouldn't  take  her 
long  to  decide  between  us. 

38 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Clearing  my  throat  I  said,  "That  was  my  chewing- 
gum." 

Hankey  turned  on  me.  "So  that  was  you,  was 
it?  Well,  I  am  not  surprised.  Take  off  your 
coat." 

The  whip  sang  through  the  air  and  landed  on  my 
back.  Then  he  began  to  lay  it  on  with  both  hands. 
Swissh  -  swisssh  -  swisssh!  When  he  quit  he  was 
panting 

"Now  go  to  your  seat  and  don't  you  ever  do  such 
a  trick  again." 

I  thought  I  would  have  time  to  make  a  rabbit- 
nose  at  him,  but  I  didn't. 

"What  do  you  mean  making  faces  at  me?" 
With  that  he  picked  up  the  whip  and  it  hurt  more 
than  ever.  I  had  to  turn  my  eyes  away  from  Addie 
because  I  didn't  want  her  to  be  disappointed  in  her 
hero. 

"Now  go  to  your  seat  and  you  may  stay  in  half 
an  hour  after  school." 

I  looked  at  Addie.  She  would  have  to  love  and 
admire  me  now,  because  Hoot  wouldn't  suffer  that 
way  for  somebody  else.  That  would  put  an  end  to 
him.  It  was  pretty  hard,  but  it  was  worth  it. 

That  was  the  difference  between  us.  Hoot  had 
stretched  it  about  his  pa's  pants  and  tried  to  show 
off  his  physical  charms  and  I  had  suffered  for  her. 
I  guess  she  would  be  glad  enough  to  be  mine  now. 
Picking  up  my  slate  I  wrote  on  it  and  held  it  up  so 
that  she  could  read  it: 

I  DONE  IT  FOR  YOU 
39 


TURKEY   BOWMAN 

She  looked  at  it  a  while,  then  opened  her  slate  and 
answered : 

IT  WAS  NOT  MY  CHEWING-GUM 

That  is  the  way  with  girls — you  never  can  tell 
how  they  are  going  to  take  a  thing.  Here  I  had 
sacrificed  and  suffered  for  her  and  she  didn't  care. 
Well,  let  her !  The  day  would  come  when  she  would 
be  glad  to  have  my  love  and  esteem.  She  didn't 
know  that  maybe  I  would  be  President  of  the 
United  States. 

I  pretended  to  be  studying,  but  I  wasn't.  I  was 
thinking  about  how  fickle  the  girl  sex  is.  You  can 
pass  through  hell  and  brimstone  for  them,  and  they 
won't  pay  any  more  attention  to  you  than  if  you 
were  a  tree-toad. 

When  I  came  out  from  school  after  having  written 
"Punishment  Is  the  Reward  for  Evil"  a  hundred 
times,  Hoot  was  standing  at  the  town  pump  with 
Addie,  trying  to  charm  her.  All  the  time  that  I 
had  been  taking  his  whipping  and  trying  to  shield  him 
from  trouble  and  suffering  he  was  gadding  around 
with  her.  It  just  showed  how  little  there  was  to 
life. 

Never  again  would  I  be  a  hero  for  anybody. 
After  this  I  would  live  for  myself  alone  and  die  a 
miser.  But  I  stopped  to  watch  a  bit  because  I 
wanted  to  see  how  big  a  fool  he  would  make  of  him- 
self. He  was  filling  his  mouth  and  showing  how  he 
could  squirt  through  his  missing  tooth. 

"Looky  there! — clear  to  the  second  floor.  Now 
watch  me  make  it  go  higher." 

40 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

With  that  he  put  his  hands  to  his  cheeks  and 
pushed  them  in  and  the  water  went  a  few  inches 
higher. 

"Look  at  that! — clear  to  the  spouting.  There 
ain't  another  fellow  in  town  that  can  do  that." 

Turning  around  he  looked  at  Addie  for  love  and 
admiration. 

"What  town  do  you  mean?"  I  says. 

"Oh,  are  you  here,  Old  Punishment  Is  the  Re- 
ward for  Evil?  Pardon  me,  what  was  it  you  wished 
to  know?" 

"What  town  do  you  mean  when  you  say  there 
ain't  anybody  that  can  squirt  as  high  as  you  can?" 

"I  mean  this  town,  and  if  you  get  sassy  I  mean 
this  state." 

"Just  show  me  where  you  was  squirting  and  then 
add  ten  feet  and  that  11  be  my  mark,"  I  says. 

Taking  a  big  breath  I  filled  my  mouth  and  turned 
it  up,  but  the  wind  or  something  was  against  me. 
I  tried  again  and  Hoot  began  to  dance  and  clap  and 
put  his  thumbs  in  his  ears  and  wiggle  his  hands. 
But  I  didn't  care.  That  was  all  he  could  do — just 
squirt  a  little  water  and  show  off  around  women- 
folks. He  wasn't  a  man's  man. 

"Well,  I  bet  I  can  throw  it  higher  than  you  can," 
I  says,  "even  if  I  ain't  feeling  very  well  to-day." 

"I'll  bet  you  can't  and  double  dare  you  to  back  it." 

"All  right,"  I  says.  ' 'I'll  just  double-double-double 
dare  you.  Put  that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

"Lissen  to  him  talk.  You'd  think  he  was  the 
man  who  invented  water  throwing.  Fill  up  your  old 
dipper." 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

I  did  and  we  both  stood  ready. 

"You  go  first,"  said  Hoot. 

"No,  you  go  first.     Age  before  beauty." 

"All  right.  Here  she  goes!  Look  at  that — clear 
to  the  kidney  sign."  Hoot  pointed  to  the  place 
where  the  patent-medicine  doctor  had  his  name  on 
the  window.  "I'd  like  to  see  you  touch  that." 

"All  right — just  keep  your  eyes  open,  and  you  can 
have  that  pleasure." 

Drawing  back  the  dipper  I  let  it  go  as  hard  as  I 
could.  But  I  was  sorry  because  we  had  pumped  a 
good  deal  of  water  and  the  sidewalk  was  slick.  Just 
as  I  threw  it  Head  Wind  came  down  the  steps  and 
when  the  water  twisted  it  went  in  his  face.  He  was 
coming  down  the  steps  from  the  patent-medicine 
doctor's  office,  because  he  could  get  whisky  there. 
He  began  to  gasp  and  sputter. 

"You  heap  big  fool,"  he  said,  and  lunged  at  me 
with  his  hand  stretched  out,  the  feather  in  his  big 
black  hat  beginning  to  droop  because  of  the  water. 
But  his  shoes  slipped  and  he  hit  the  ground.  Jump- 
ing up  he  put  his  hand  on  his  hip  and  it  began  to 
drip.  He  started  to  pull  it  out,  but  the  bottle  was 
in  pieces. 

With  that  the  Indians  around  the  Fur  Traders* 
Store  began  to  laugh,  and  Indians  don't  laugh  very 
often.  They  threw  up  their  hands  and  opened 
their  mouths  till  it  sounded  more  like  bellowing. 

"Heap  plenty  jokeum,"  they  said  between  their 
bellowings.  "Break  plenty  big  bottle  Waapoo. 
Ha!  ha!  hhhhhhhhh!" 

Head  Wind  turned  toward  me  madder  than  ever, 

42 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

because  an  Indian  doesn't  like  to  be  laughed  at. 
"Dammy  you,"  he  said,  pulling  out  the  pieces  of 
glass.  "Me  ketchum  you."  With  that  he  came 
toward  me,  reaching  out  his  long  brown  fingers. 
Out  of  his  pocket  came  the  trapper's  knife,  and 
touching  the  spring  the  blade  sprang  open.  Down 
the  street  I  started  and  ordinarily  I  am  a  good 
runner,  but  now  weights  seemed  tied  to  my  feet. 
But  he  couldn't  come  very  fast  because  he  was 
unsteady  from  Waapoo.  Heading  straight  for  pap's 
grist-mill  I  crawled  under  the  wheel. 

It  was  a  long  time  that  night  before  I  could  go  to 
sleep,  because  Head  Wind  was  a  bad  Indian.  Lone- 
some Charlie  was  about  the  only  man  who  wasn't 
afraid  of  him. 

The  lodge  had  a  meeting  that  night,  but  I  didn't 
go.  I  had  other  things  to  think  about.  It  seemed 
strange  that  Addie  couldn't  tell  a  real  man  when  she 
saw  one.  There  wasn't  anything  to  Hoot  Howden. 
He  was  just  a  windbag — that  was  all.  He  wouldn't 
ever  be  President  of  the  United  States. 

I  would  give  her  one  more  chance  and  if  she  didn't 
appreciate  it  that  was  the  end.  Let  her  weep — • 
she  couldn't  have  me  then.  She  could  marry  some 
one  else  and  go  to  the  dogs. 

I  would  make  some  noble  sacrifice  for  her  and  then 
she  would  have  to  love  me.  I  would  give  her  just 
one  more  chance. 

I  wished  the  school- house  would  catch  on  fire,  or  a 
python  come  crawling  through  the  door,  or  some- 
thing. It  might  be  two  pythons — the  more  the 
better,  as  long  as  I  could  handle  them.  When  Hoot 

43 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

was  screaming  and  climbing  up  on  the  seats  I  would 
hit  one  of  the  pythons  over  the  head  with  a  poker 
and  throw  coal-dust  in  the  eyes  of  the  other  and 
carry  Addie  out  in  my  arms.  Then  I  would  put  my 
coat  under  her  head  and  pump  up  some  good  cool 
water;  when  she  had  recovered  we  would  go  down 
to  the  store  and  buy  some  licorice. 

But  nothing  happened.  Hoot  Howden  went  on 
chewing  his  gum  and  Hankey  following  the  lines 
with  his  skinny  fingers,  once  in  a  while  raising  his 
eyes  to  look  around,  like  a  seal. 

That  afternoon  Mr.  Hankey  leaned  forward  with 
his  hands  on  his  desk  and  said:  "All  scholars  will 
now  cease  studying  and  put  away  their  books 
quietly.  We  will  now  have  a  spelling-match  to  see 
who  is  champion  of  the  school." 

I  would  show  Addie  now  who  I  was,  because  I 
was  better  at  spelling  than  anything  else.  We  lined 
up,  one  of  the  captains  taking  Hoot,  because  every- 
body had  to  be  chosen. 

"Judgment,  a  decree,"  pronounced  Mr.  Hankey. 

A  good  many  of  them  missed  because  there  isn't 
an  "e"  where  you  would  expect.  One  by  one  they 
went  down,  laughing  kind  of  sickly  and  pretending 
that  they  really  knew  better  only  they  didn't  have 
time  to  think.  But  Addie  didn't  go  down.  She 
was  more  like  me. 

Hoot  was  sitting  at  his  desk  pretending  to  be 
reading  Hans  Brinker,  but  he  wasn't.  He  was 
waiting  to  see  me  go  down.  Hoot  didn't  mean 
anything  to  me — he  could  have  died  and  I  wouldn't 
have  missed  a  meal.  I'd  gone  to  his  funeral  because 

44 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

his  mother  was  my  Sunday-school  teacher,  but  the 
next  day  I'd  slipped  out  behind  the  mill  and  smoked 
as  usual. 

"Daguerreotype,  a  picture,"  pronounced  Mr. 
Hankey  and  pretty  soon  they  were  all  down  except 
Addie  and  me.  She  was  on  one  side  of  the  room 
and  I  was  on  the  other.  A  pretty  nice-looking 
couple  we  made  standing  there  facing  each  other 
and  me  once  in  a  while  folding  my  arms  across  my 
chest. 

"Sugar,  a  food." 

But  he  didn't  fool  me,  because  there  isn't  any  "h" 
in  it. 

Addie  was  beginning  to  get  worried,  because  the 
words  were  getting  harder  and  harder.  Now  was 
my  chance — I  would  perform  the  noble  sacrifice  for 
her.  Then  she  would  have  to  love  and  esteem  me. 

"Gosling,  a  small  duck." 

"G-o-s-s-l-i-n-g,"  I  spelled. 

"Next." 

"It's  got  only  one  *s, ' "  said  Addie. 

"Correct,"  said  Mr.  Hankey  and  snapped  the 
book  and  the  students  cheered. 

I  walked  to  my  seat  with  my  soul  looking  out  of 
my  eyes,  because  now  we  understood  each  other. 
We  were  through  with  Hoot.  I  could  hardly  wait 
after  school  to  walk  home  with  her,  but  when  I  came 
out  old  Hoot  was  cutting  monkey-shines.  He  was 
showing  her  how  a  train  pulled  up  for  water.  He 
would  back  up  and  go  ahead  and  pull  back  again 
and  work  his  feet  and  wave  for  the  engineer  to  put 
on  the  brakes  and  then  reach  up  and  swing  the  spout 

45 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

around  and  then  pull  the  lever  and  make  a  sound 
like  the  tank  filling.  I  don't  know  what  a  refined 
lady  could  see  in  a  gasbag  like  him.  Of  course  if 
he  died  his  mother  would  miss  him,  but  we  would 
have  a  half-holiday. 

I  came  up  looking  at  her  kind  of  sad  with  my  eyes 
because  we  were  now  two  souls  that  understood  each 
other.  But  she  didn't  look  up  at  me  and  sigh. 
Instead  of  that  she  called  out,  "Hello,  gosling — you 
thought  you  were  going  to  spell  me  down,  didn't 
you?" 

That  from  her!  And  when  I  had  made  my  noble 
sacrifice  for  her!  It  was  more  than  I  could  stand. 
This  was  the  straw  that  broke  the  camel's  back!  I 
would  never  have  anything  more  to  do  with  women. 
They  were  all  alike.  I'd  let  them  rot  first. 

But  I  wouldn't  let  her  get  the  best  of  me  that  way, 
so  I  said,  "I  guess  I  could  have  spelled  it  if  I  had 
wanted  to." 

"Oh,  you  could,  could  you?  Well,  then,  why 
didn't  you?" 

I  looked  at  her  a  long  while  with  my  eyes  and  then 
said,  "I  done  it  for  you." 

With  that  she  began  to  laugh.  "I  guess  I  had 
some  dust  or  something  in  my  eye,  because  it  didn't 
look  like  that  to  me.  You  were  standing  there 
smiling  and  smirking  because  you  thought  I  was 
going  down." 

With  that  Hoot  began  to  laugh  and  holler  and 
turn  cart-wheels  and  quack  like  a  gosling.  It  just 
looks  sometimes  as  if  there  isn't  anything  but 
trouble  and  misery  and  unhappiness  in  the  world. 

46 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

I  walked  away,  taking  long,  dignified  steps,  be- 
cause I  was  about  through  with  women.  I  would 
never  speak  to  her  again,  and  I  wouldn't  have — 
only  the  next  day  I  saw  Hoot  go  into  the  Prairie 
Queen  Store  and  buy  ten  cents'  worth  of  candy  mice. 


CHAPTER  V 

We  have  the  Living  Book  of  Nature  and  Hoot  tries  to  act  smart,  as 
usual.  I  won't  ever  marry  Addie,  but  I'll  hire  somebody  to  split 
her  wood  for  her,  because  heavy  work  is  too  hard  on  a  lady. 

BOARD  DAY  Hankey  was  all  dressed  up.  He 
had  on  the  long-tailed  coat  that  he  wore  when 
he  wanted  to  be  hired,  and  a  diamond  horseshoe 
that  a  drummer  had  left  at  the  Palace  Hotel.  He 
would  reach  into  his  desk,  put  something  into  his 
pocket  and  then  slip  out  to  the  anteroom.  When 
I  passed  him  I  knew  what  it  was — he  was  getting 
ready  for  the  directors. 

"I  want  you  to  answer  the  questions  of  the  distin- 
guished gentlemen  to-day  pleasantly  and  promptly. 
To  show  them  how  we  make  learning  interesting 
we  will  again  have  the  Living  Book  of  Nature.  No 
laughing,  please." 

That  was  because  the  last  time  a  mouse  had  run 
up  his  leg. 

"To-day  we  shall  have  an  even  more  interesting 
subject  than  last  time.  I  have  made  arrangements 
with  Mr.  Larscom  for  the  use  of  one  of  his  goats.  I 
think  we  shall  find  the  goat  a  most  interesting 
animal." 

I  thought  so,  too — especially  if  they  got  Hannibal 
Hamlin. 

48 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Every  once  in  a  while  he  would  stop  at  the  window 
to  see  if  the  Board  was  coming  and  then  tiptoe  out 
to  the  vestibule,  and  then  it  didn't  make  any  differ- 
ence what  kind  of  an  answer  we  made — it  didn't 
make  him  mad. 

When  the  turnstile  clicked  he  fixed  his  necktie 
and  wet  down  his  hair  as  if  he  was  going  to  call  on 
a  girl. 

"Here  are  the  distinguished  men.  You  may  put 
away  your  books,  children,  and  cease  studying. 
Remember  to  be  pleasant  to  the  gentlemen." 

The  men  came  in  with  the  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butter- 
field  in  the  lead.  Mr.  Butterfield  was  in  Congress 
working  for  the  common  people  and  wore  a  long- 
tailed  coat.  He  carried  his  hat  across  his  breast 
and  put  his  arm  around  people  when  he  talked.  The 
two  other  members  followed,  but  they  didn't  have 
long-tailed  coats  on,  as  they  worked  for  a  living. 

The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  had  vici-kid  shoes 
and  the  best  mustache  comb  I  ever  saw.  You 
could  fold  it  up.  Most  of  them  are  just  straight 
and  in  a  little  black  case,  but  this  had  a  joint  in  the 
middle  so  that  you  could  fold  it  up.  It  was  a  dandy. 

"Welcome,  gentlemen,  to  our  little  stronghold  of 
learning,"  said  Hankey,  in  his  hiring  voice.  "It 
was  Emerson,  I  believe,  who  said  that  the  school- 
room is  the  cradle  of  the  nation.  Now,  children, 
arise  and  sing  your  song." 

We  did  and  Mr.  Gallup,  who  worked  for  a  living 
at  the  Flour  and  Feed  Store,  kept  time  with  his  foot. 

"Dear  students,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  beginning  to 
weave,  "it  is  a  privilege  and  pleasure  to  have  such 

49 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

distinguished  men  come  to  call  on  us.  It  is  a  rare 
treat  indeed.  It  should  be — ah — a  reminder  to  us 
that  if  we  study  hard  that  we,  too,  may  become  dis- 
tinguished men  also.  The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield 
was  not  always  a  distinguished  man.  Once  he  was 
a  boy — but  he  studied  and  obeyed  his  father  and 
mother.  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  present  you  to 
the  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield." 

The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  stood  up  and  shook 
out  his  pants  leg.  He  always  had  a  subject  in  what 
a  rich  and  wonderful  state  we  had.  I  would  go 
along  not  paying  any  attention  to  our  state  until  he 
turned  loose  and  then  I  would  begin  to  feel  pretty 
rich — only  that  night  it  would  be  just  as  hard  as 
ever  to  get  a  nickel  out  of  pap. 

"Fellow-students — I  call  you  fellow-students  be- 
cause we  are  all  students  together  in  this  great  and 
wonderful  institution  of  learning  that  we  call  the 
universe.  It  is  a  pleasure  indeed  to  stand  before 
you  this  day  and  look  down  into  your  bright,  intelli- 
gent faces,  for  I  know  not  what  face  of  the  future  I 
may  be  gazing  into.  I  see  before  me  a  long  vista — 
a  rare,  golden  vista — fading  away  into  a  splendid 
white  dome  under  which  sits  a  figure  in  a  chair.  I 
look  again — "  with  that  he  put  his  hand  up  to  his 
eyes  and  bent  forward. 

"Turn  around,  children,"  said  Mr.  Hankey. 

" — and  I  see  statesmen  coming  and  going  and 
great  men  paying  homage.  I  look  again  and  I  see 
it  is  a  rare  vision  indeed.  It  is  the  President  of  the 
United  States — and  that  person  may  be  right  here 
in  this  room!" 

So 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

With  that  he  looked  straight  at  me.  I  swallowed, 
because  I  knew  who  it  was  he  meant.  I  had  always 
kind  of  thought  that  I  would  be  President  some  time, 
and  now  this  made  it  certain.  All  I  had  to  do  now 
was  to  live  right  and  keep  out  of  jail. 

"And  why  shouldn't  the  future  President  come 
from  here? — I  ask  you  that.  Have  we  not  the 
greenest  trees?  Have  we  not  the  best  wheat?  For 
us  Nature  has  opened  her  golden  cornucopia  and 
poured  out  her  bounteous  supply.  She  has  given 
us  the  richest  land  in  the  world  with  the  sleekest 
kine  to  roam  over  it,  and  studded  these  beauteous 
hills  with  veins  of  coal  and  filled  the  brooks  with  the 
coolest  water  that  ever  quenched  a  dry  lip,  and  she 
has  given  us  the  most  golden  sun  that  kisses  this 
celestial  planet,  and  carpeted  the  far  sweep  of  hills 
with  the  most  gently  waving  grass  that  human  eye 
ever  gazed  upon.  And  here  in  the  rolling  sweep  of 
prairies,  great,  wondrous,  beauteous  Nature  has 
made  a  little  nest  of  foothills  and  valleys  and  there 
she  has  set  down  the  city  of  Temptation,  than  which 
there  is  no  more  promising  spot  on  earth.  Like  an 
opal  on  the  iridescent  bosom  of  Nature  it  lies,  athrob 
with  life,  pulsating  with  hope  and  happiness,  attune 
with  the  Infinite — the  Queen  City  of  the  Prairies. 
A  most  glorious  and  wonderful  state  we  have.  In 
our  valleys  we  have  enough  water  to  put  all  the  fires 
of  hell  out,  enough  rocks  in  our  stately  hills  to  build 
a  wall  around  the  world,  enough  marble  to  rebuild 
the  Temple  of  Jerusalem,  iron  enough  to  build  a 
road  to  the  moon  and  telegraph-poles  enough  to  run 
a  line  to  the  Day  of  Judgment." 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

It  made  me  feel  rich.  I  was  glad  I  was  going  to 
be  President  instead  of  Hoot.  He  wouldn't  make 
much  of  a  President.  If  he  was  elected  I  would 
move  to  Europe  or  Russia  or  some  other  country — 
I  wouldn't  stay  here  and  watch  the  country  go  to 
the  dogs. 

"It  is  our  privilege  and  blessing  to  be  born  in  the 
most  wonderful  age  of  the  world.  We  can  now 
speak  to  one  another  across  thousands  of  miles  by 
that  marvelous  instrument  we  call  the  telephone, 
which  transmits  the  voice  over  hill  and  dale  farther 
than  the  loudest  cry  from  the  Tower  of  Pisa  would 
carry  it;  where  two  human  beings  ten  thousand 
miles  apart  can  move  a  little  iron  key  that  wouldn't 
cost  over  two  bits  and  understand  each  other — for 
such  is  the  telegraph.  Our  vessels  go  to  the  farthest 
antipodes  laden  with  riches  that  would  make  Croesus 
envious ;  bridges  span  the  widest  rivers  with  tons  of 
steel  and  wire  in  the  air  so  high  and  far  away  that 
they  look  like  a  spider's  web  flung  in  the  sky;  our 
binders  reap  the  waving  grain,  encompass  it  with  a 
string  and  drop  it  in  neat,  golden  piles;  our  ele- 
vators lift  it  skyward  and  our  great  iron  horses  race 
with  it  to  golden  argosies  that  bear  it  to  the  far 
countries  of  the  expectant  world." 

It  certainly  was  wonderful.  I  bet  you  I  am 
President  a  couple  of  times. 

Mr.  Hankey  got  up  and  wound  his  hands  in  the 
small  of  his  back.  "It  is  indeed  a  privilege  and  a 
pleasure  to  listen  to  a  gentleman  who  has  risen  to 
such  heights,  who  has  distinguished  himself  among 
his  fellow-men  as  Mr.  Butterfield  has.  It  shows 

52 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

what  a  boy  can  do  who  studies  hard  and  obeys  his 
teacher  and  parents.  Do  any  of  the  other  members 
of  the  Board  desire  to  make  a  speech?" 

They  didn't,  as  they  were  satisfied  to  work  for  a 
living. 

"Now  I  shall  be  pleased,  gentlemen,  to — ah — 
show  you  how  far  my  scholars  have  advanced  in 
learning's  wide  domain.  It  has  always  been  my 
theory  that  learning  can  be  made  interesting,  and 
for  that  purpose  we  have  instituted  our  Book  of 
Living  Nature.  Marvin,  will  you  bring  in  the  sub- 
ject of  our  study  to-day?" 

Hoot  went  out  and  pretty  soon  he  pushed  open 
the  door  and  there  he  had  Hannibal  Hamlin.  Han- 
nibal was  not  much  of  a  looker.  He  had  whiskers 
and  he  did  not  bathe  as  often  as  he  should.  He 
stood  looking  in,  his  white  eyes  showing,  tossing  his 
head.  ** 

Scoop  began  pulling  on  the  rope,  but  it  only 
stretched  Hannibal's  neck.  Hannibal  did  not  want 
to  come  in  and  be  studied. 

"Speak  to  him  gently,"  said  Mr.  Hankey. 

But  there  isn't  any  use  in  speaking  gently  to 
a  goat.  You  had  just  as  well  speak  gently  to  a 
cyclone. 

"I'll  get  behind  and  push,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  but 
Hannibal  jumped  and  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  keep 
from  laughing,  because  Mr.  Hankey  slid  on  the 
floor.  He  washed  up  in  the  anteroom  and  when  he 
came  out  he  was  looking  pretty  well  pleased  with 
himself.  When  he  walked  up  the  aisle  he  was 
lifting  his  feet  high. 
5  S3 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Come  now,  ruminant  mammal,"  said  Mr. 
Hankey,  pulling  at  the  rope.  "Always  be  gentle 
with  animals,  my  children  —  but  firm.  Come, 
now." 

With  that  he  pulled  the  rope  and  Hannibal  gave 
a  bleat  and  shot  ahead.  The  rope  caught  Mr. 
Hankey's  leg  and  he  sat  down  on  the  Hon.  Ira  T. 
Butter-field's  lap. 

"Pardon  me,  judge,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  hopping 
around  the  room  and  trying  to  get  the  rope  un- 
tangled. "Sometimes  little  accidents  happen  that 
are — er — exasperating."  But  he  couldn't  get  the 
rope  off  and  with  that  he  began  to  get  excited. 
' '  Whoa  there !  Whoa  there !  Stop  him !  Can '  t  you 
see  somebody's  going  to  get  hurt?  Whoa  there, 
you  old  ram!" 

But  he  didn't  whoa.  He  pulled  and  rushed  more 
than  ever. 

"Somebody  get  him  by  the  beard,"  panted  Mr. 
Hankey. 

Mr.  Gallup  came  tiptoeing  toward  him,  but  there 
wasn't  any  use  in  tiptoeing,  because  Hannibal  knew 
all  that  was  going  on.  His  white  eyes  began  to 
shine  more  than  ever.  Mr.  Gallup's  hand  shot  out 
and  he  got  him  by  the  beard,  but  he  didn't  hold  him. 
"Baaa,"  went  Hannibal  and  leaped  away. 

"I  swan,  the  critter's  hard  to  hold,"  said  Mr. 
Gallup,  holding  up  his  hand  to  see  how  he  had  got 
away. 

"Get  him  by  the  leg,"  yelled  Mr.  Hankey,  but  it 
didn't  do  any  good  because  you  can't  get  a  goat  by 
the  leg  any  more  than  you  can  an  earthquake. 

54 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"I  swan,  he's  powerful  agile  in  his  hindquarters," 
said  Mr.  Gallup.  ' '  You  better  put  that  in  the  lesson, 
too." 

"I  guess  we  had  better  surround  him,"  said  the 
Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield,  and  with  that  the  Board 
came  toward  him.  But  it  was  hard  to  surround 
Hannibal,  because  he  could  see  holes. 

"Grab  him  by  the  horns,"  said  Mr.  Hankey. 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  any  more  grabbin',"  said 
Mr.  Gallup.  "He's  stronger  in  the  front  end  than 
he  is  in  the  hind  end." 

"Now  all  together — crowd  up,"  said  the  Hon. 
Ira  T.  Butterfield  and  they  got  him.  But  Hannibal 
didn't  like  it.  His  white  eyes  began  to  shine  still 
brighter. 

"Dang  his  skin,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  shaking  down 
his  pants  leg.  "Now  let  us  compose  ourselves. 
That  is  one  of  the  great  things  in  life,  children,  to 
learn  how  to  compose  yourselves.  We'll  just  tie  him 
up  to  this  table  leg.  Now  we  will  proceed  with  the 
lesson.  Attention,  scholars.  Who  can  tell  me  the 
difference  between  a  sheep  and  a  goat?" 

Scoop  Gooden's  hand  went  up. 

"You  may  tell  us,  Floyd." 

"A  goat  smells  worse." 

That  wasn't  what  he  meant.  He  had  meant  their 
hair. 

Seeing  something  sticking  over  the  edge  of  Mr. 
Hankey's  desk,  Hannibal  stretched  up  his  neck  and 
began  to  eat.  It  was  the  switches,  and  when  we  saw 
what  it  was  we  began  to  laugh. 

"There  will  be  no  laughter,"  said  Mr.  Hankey. 

55 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

But  there  was — anybody  would  have  laughed  to  see 
our  switches  being  eaten  up. 

"Stop  that,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  and  with  that  he 
took  what  was  left  of  one  and  gave  Hannibal  a  cut. 
Hannibal  didn't  like  it  and  turned  his  white  eyes 
on  Mr.  Hankey.  He  shook  his  head  and  said, 
"Baaaa-baaaa-aa!"  but  Mr.  Hankey  didn't  pay  any 
attention. 

"We  will  now  study  the  horns,"  said  Mr.  Hankey, 
picking  up  a  pointer  and  hitting  Hannibal  with  it  to 
make  them  sound.  "You  will  note  that  they  are 
hollow." 

With  that  Hannibal  tried  to  get  away. 

"Stop  that,"  he  said  and  gave  him  another  rap. 
Hannibal  shook  his  head  and  went  "Baa-aa-a." 
"Stop  that,  I  say,"  and  with  that  he  gave  him  an- 
other one.  "Baaa-aa-a,"  went  Hannibal.  "One 
must  always  show  a  member  of  the  lower  kingdom 
that  he  is  not  afraid  of  him.  Stop  that,  I  say." 

Mr.  Hankey  whacked  at  Hannibal  again,  but  the 
pointer  slipped  from  his  hand.  He  bent  over  to  get 
it,  while  Hannibal  watched  him  out  of  his  white  eyes. 
Bending  over  was  slow  work  for  Mr.  Hankey  and  it 
made  him  puff  a  good  deal,  because  his  tanglefoot 
was  beginning  to  take  effect.  His  coattails  spread 
apart  and  there  staring  Hannibal  in  the  face  was  Mr. 
Hankey 's  red  handkerchief!  The  next  thing  we 
knew  Mr.  Hankey  was  stretched  out  under  the 
table  with  his  legs  kicking  in  the  air.  Mr.  Hankey 
got  up  with  his  hand  where  the  goat  had  struck  him. 

"Durn  that  goat!"  he  said.  "Give  me  that 
pointer." 

56 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

When  Hannibal  saw  the  pointer  he  lowered  his 
head  and  came  toward  him.  Mr.  Hankey  turned 
to  run,  but  it  wasn't  any  use,  because  Hannibal  was 
as  quick  as  greased  lightning  and  hit  him  where  he 
was  afraid  he  was  going  to.  "Clap-clap!"  went  Mr. 
Hankey's  legs  against  the  bottom  of  the  table.  The 
rope  broke  and  in  one  leap  Hannibal  was  on  top  of 
Spide  Logan's  desk  and  the  next  thing  we  knew  there 
was  a  crash  of  glass  and  Hannibal  was  out  in  the 
yard  streaking  it  for  the  feed-lot. 

"He  sure  hit  me  a  wallop,"  said  Mr.  Hankey,  not 
talking  so  dignified  now. 

"He  sure  did,"  said  the  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield. 
"I  guess  it  must  have  been  one  of  those  ruminant 
horns." 

It  was  a  good  bit  before  the  school  quieted  down, 
because  everybody  was  laughing.  Mr.  Hankey 
took  his  place  out  in  front,  standing  with  one  hand 
on  the  table  as  it  was  getting  so  that  he  did  not  want 
to  sit  down. 

"Gentlemen,  I  shall  be  pleased  if  you  wish  to  test 
the  scholars  as  to  how  much  they  know.  I  guess 
you  will  see  that  they  have  made  some  progress  all 
right.  Will  you  ask  them  a  question,  Mr.  Gallup?" 

"I  don't  know  but  what  I  might.  Young  man," 
he  said,  fastening  his  eyes  on  me,  "I'll  ask  you  one." 

This  was  my  chance.  Addie  would  have  to  ad- 
mire me  now,  as  there  was  one  thing  about  me — I 
was  brainy. 

Stretching  out  his  neck  Mr.  Gallup  ran  his  finger 
down  the  page.  "Air  ye  ready?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

57 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Well,  then,  what  does  the  Mississippi  River  flow 
into?" 

The  Mississippi  River — what  did  the  old  thing 
flow  into,  anyway? 

"Didn't  ye  hear  me,  young  feller?" 

"It — it  flows  into  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn." 

Mr.  Hankey  staggered  as  if  he  had  been  hit.  And 
then  the  school  began  to  laugh — especially  Hoot. 
When  he  saw  that  it  was  the  wrong  answer  he  could 
hardly  contain  himself.  He  had  to  clasp  his  hands 
over  his  mouth  and  then  some  of  it  got  out  between 
his  fingers.  When  school  was  dismissed  he  was 
still  laughing. 

Addie  was  standing  at  the  door  putting  her  school- 
bag  over  her  shoulder. 

"Can  I  help  you?"  I  asked,  politely. 

"No,  thank  you,  Cap,"  she  said,  and  went  walking 
off  down  the  street  with  Hoot. 

That  was  the  end.  I  wouldn't  stand  it  any  more! 
I  had  suffered  all  from  that  woman  that  I  was 
going  to. 

Then  she  turned  and  called  back,  "I'll  ask  you  a 
question,  young  feller — " 

That  broke  the  camel's  back  for  the  last  time.  I 
was  through  with  her.  Women  had  never  caused 
me  anything  but  misery,  anyway.  She  belonged  to 
me  and  Nature  had  intended  her  for  me  and  this 
was  the  way  she  was  acting.  Well  .  .  .  she  would 
live  to  see  the  day  when  she  would  rue  it.  I  would 
run  away  and  when  I  came  back  I  would  be  rich 
and  she  would  be  poor.  I  would  buy  her  a  fine 
house  with  a  weather-vane  and  an  iron  deer,  but  I 

58 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

wouldn't  many  her.  I  would  ride  past  her  house 
in  my  carriage  and  carelessly  throw  a  half -smoked 
cigar  over  the  side.  She  could  peek  through  the 
lattice  and  sob  if  she  wanted  to — I  wouldn't  come 
back.  I  would  just  drive  on  and  light  another  cigar. 
I  wouldn't  ever  come  to  see  her  or  call  on  her,  but  I 
would  have  her  wood  split.  I  would  let  her  suffer 
some  other  way. 

I  would  show  her.    The  end  had  come.    She  had 
gazed  on  me  for  the  last  time. 


CHAPTER  VI 

No  woman  can  insidt  me  and  expect  me  to  love  her  the  same  as  always. 
I  write  some  poetry  and  my  heart  is  broken  for  the  last  time.  I 
haven't  anything  to  live  for  now  except  my  meals. 

I  WOULD  run  away.  I  would  go  off  and  conquer 
the  world  and  when  I  had  conquered  it  I  would 
come  back  and  let  her  see  me.  She  could  giggle  and 
act  smart  with  Hoot  Howden  if  she  wanted  to  and 
call  me  "Cap,"  but  my  day  was  coming.  Maybe  I 
would  invite  her  to  the  White  House  and  maybe  I 
wouldn't.  I  would  pardon  Hoot  from  the  peni- 
tentiary, but  I  wouldn't  invite  him  to  dinner.  I'd 
just  sign  the  papers  and  go  on  with  my  work. 

It  seemed  too  bad.  Hoot  and  I  used  to  be  such 
good  friends  and  now  he  didn't  have  any  sense. 

I  was  so  busy  thinking  that  I  didn't  notice  Head 
Wind.  He  was  coming  out  of  the  Agency  store 
from  buying  a  mirror  and  some  chewing  tobacco. 
When  he  saw  me  he  gave  a  grunt  and  made  a  dive 
for  me.  I  hit  down  the  alley  as  hard  as  I  could. 
Every  time  I  looked  back  his  long  brown  fingers 
were  stretched  out  for  my  neck. 

Head  Wind  wouldn't  do  anything  but  lay  around 
and  draw  his  government  pay.  The  other  Indians 
would  stay  on  their  reservation  and  do  a  little 

60 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

plowing,  but  Head  Wind  wouldn't  do  anything  but 
chew  tobacco  and  bet  on  his  pony. 

But  now  he  was  too  full  of  Waapoo  and  I  got  away 
from  him  and  hid  under  the  wheel.  When  I  came 
out  he  was  gone.  I  would  be  glad  to  get  away  from 
Temptation  and  Head  Wind.  But  before  I  went  I 
would  give  Addie  one  more  chance.  Sometimes 
women  see  their  mistakes  at  the  last  minute  and 
repent.  The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  surer  I 
was  that  Addie  would  repent.  She  was  a  sensible 
girl. 

"She's  probably  sitting  at  home  now  trying  to 
study,"  I  says  to  myself.  "I'll  bet  she's  got  tears  in 
her  eyes.  Them  poor  little  eyes!"  It  was  more 
than  I  could  stand.  "I'll  bet  she's  crying  right  now," 
I  says  and  began  to  cry,  too. 

Sometimes  I  get  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction  out  of 
crying.  I  cry  and  feel  sad  and  have  a  good  time. 
But  I  wouldn't  let  Hoot  know  it — nor  any  of  the 
gang.  They  didn't  know  that  it  was  easy  for  me  to 
cry — and  especially  when  a  woman  was  concerned. 
I  wouldn't  let  them  know  it,  because  they  thought  I 
was  death  to  the  hilt,  like  the  rest  of  them.  It 
seemed  queer  to  think  of  me  as  one  of  their  leaders 
and  always  wanting  blood  and  never  willing  to  give 
any  mercy  and  here  all  the  time  when  I  got  off 
by  myself  I  was  ready  to  cry.  It's  strange  how 
different  we  are  to  people  from  what  we  are  to 
ourselves. 

"If  she  could  just  hear  my  voice  once,"  I  says, 
she'd  probably  break  down." 

Then  I'd  wipe  away  her  tears  and  she'd  say  that 

61 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

she  was  never  going  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  any  other  man.  It  was  easy,  the  way  I  had  it 
figured  out. 

That  was  just  what  she  needed — to  hear  me  sing. 
Then  there  wouldn't  be  any  more  Hoot.  Good-by, 
Hoot,  your  time  has  come. 

So  I  got  out  ma's  tablet  that  she  wrote  to  her 
folks  with  and  got  ready.  Ma  had  been  a  school- 
teacher before  she  married  pap  and  was  a  good 
writer.  She  could  have  written  the  poetry  better 
than  I  could,  but  I  wouldn't  tell  her  that  I  wanted 
to  write  poetry  to  a  girl,  because  I  never  talk  about 
the  deep  things  of  life.  I  am  not  much  of  a  person 
to  talk  about  the  things  that  affect  me  most.  People 
seeing  me  going  along  laughing  and  keeping  every- 
body in  a  roar  would  never  know  that  I  had  a  sorrow 
of  my  own.  They  would  think  I  was  the  happiest 
person  in  the  world,  when  all  the  time  Addie  would 
be  gnawing  at  my  heart. 

Writing  poetry  is  hard  work  and  it  took  me  a  long 
time,  because  good  poetry  should  have  thought. 
When  I  got  it  written  and  put  the  rhymes  where 
they  should  be  I  got  out  pap's  fiddle,  because  I  had 
just  as  well  do  it  right.  Pap  had  played  in  the  or- 
chestra when  he  was  young,  but  he  didn't  play  any 
more  now,  except  sometimes  in  the  evenings  he 
would  take  off  his  shoes  and  sit  with  his  feet  on  the 
porch  railing  and  scratch  away. 

Tuning  it  up  I  went  over  to  Mr.  Mingo's  house  and 
tiptoed  in  between  his  marble  gate-posts. 

"All  I  got  to  do  is  just  play  a  little,"  I  says  to 
myself,  "and  then  she'll  come  to  the  window  and 

62 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

stick  her  head  out.  When  she  sees  who  it  is  she'll 
get  all  choked  up." 

Up  in  the  corner  was  her  precious  room.  It  made 
my  mouth  dry  to  look  up  there  and  think  whose  it 
was — hers.  There  on  the  line  still  drying  was  one 
of  her  little  undershirts.  It  made  me  weak  to  look 
at  it.  I  held  it  against  my  face  and  it  made  me  feel 
dizzy.  It  was  wonderful  to  think  that  she  would 
soon  be  mine.  Taking  it  off  I  folded  it  up  and  put 
it  in  my  pocket.  I  would  keep  it  always  and  think 
of  her.  It  would  be  my  inspiration  and  when  life 
seemed  discouraging  I  would  reach  in  and  put  my 
hand  on  it. 

She  was  probably  up  there  now,  sobbing.  I  lis- 
tened, but  I  could  not  hear  her,  because  Ernestine, 
her  older  sister,  was  racketing  around.  I  never 
before  knew  how  much  noise  there  could  be  at  night. 
A  train  down  at  the  siding  was  switching  and  a  dog 
was  yowling  because  away  off  some  place  he  could 
hear  coyotes.  A  cricket  down  in  the  weather- 
boarding  was  filing  away  and  down  where  Mr. 
Mingo  had  wet  the  hydrangea  a  tree-frog  was  tuning 
up.  Some  Indians  with  too  much  kidney-cure  in 
them  were  running  their  horses  across  Pleasant 
Creek  bridge  and  the  buckets  in  the  wheat  elevator 
were  scratching  against  the  sides  as  the  belting 
carried  them  up. 

Tiptoeing  up  closer  I  got  out  pap's  fiddle  and 
placed  it  under  my  chin.  Turning  my  face  up 
toward  hers  I  began  to  sing,  sweetly: 

"The  day  of  the  fading  rose  is  here,  dear  heart,1 
For  soon  I  must  leave  you  and  depart." 
63 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

It  sounded  pretty  nice,  because  I  inherited  quite  a 
bit  of  ma's  ability.  Hoot  couldn't  have  written  it. 
It  would  have  made  a  calf  sick  to  listen  to  him. 

Softly  a  window  began  to  go  up.  At  last  Addie 
was  touched.  As  it  went  up  still  higher  I  sang  on, 
putting  in  as  many  wavers  as  I  could,  because  I 
wanted  to  make  it  sound  sad. 

"This  I  say  to  you — the  time  has  come,  dear  one, 
When  you  must  choose,  or  my  wayward  career  is  begun." 

I  put  in  some  more  trembles,  because  I  saw  that  it 
was  affecting  her.  Then  I  went  on: 

"What  is  your  answer  to-night  under  the  moon's  beam,  dear 
heart?" 

There  was  a  stirring  inside  and  then  down  on  me 
came  a  dishpanful  of  water! 

I  had  asked  her  for  my  answer  and  this  was  what 
I  got.  This  was  the  end.  I  had  never  known  any- 
thing but  suffering  from  her  hand.  Why  were  girls 
placed  in  the  world  when  all  they  did  was  to  make 
people  suffer?  I  would  go  away  now  and  conquer 
the  world.  I  wouldn't  even  give  her  an  iron  deer. 
She  could  lie  and  rot  for  all  I  cared. 

I  didn't  know  where  to  go,  but  anywhere  was 
better  than  here.  I  would  probably  drink  and  I 
would  probably  gamble — and  then  some  day  I  would 
come  back  in  a  carriage.  The  camel's  back  had  been 
broken  for  the  last  time.  I  would  run  away.  I 
would  go  to  the  dogs  and  sink  deeper  and  deeper 
and  let  the  guilt  be  on  her  soul.  Some  evening  I 
would  come  stumbling  home  and  she  would  see  me 

64 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

in  the  light  of  the  Prairie  Queen  Store  and  it  would 
haunt  her  always. 

I  stepped  in  front  of  Jake's  Place.  The  smell 
coming  out  hit  me  in  the  face.  I  would  go  to  hell 
before  I  began  to  weaken.  Pushing  open  the  door 
I  walked  in.  Jake's  Place  was  always  full.  When 
the  men  came  in  off  the  range  and  after  selling  their 
wheat  it  was  the  best  place  they  could  go  to  have  a 
good  time.  There  were  a  good  many  pictures  on  the 
wall,  but  mostly  of  race-horses  and  of  women 
looking  at  flowers.  Everybody  was  talking  at  once 
and  bending  over  and  blowing  the  foam  off  their 
glasses,  and  when  a  man  would  go  to  pay  for  his 
drink  he  would  give  the  money  a  flip  down  the 
counter  to  the  bartender. 

You  could  have  a  good  time — nobody  here  to 
throw  water  on  you.  Well,  let  her.  It  was  the 
last  time  she  would  ever  throw  water  on  me. 

The  bartender  looked  startled  as  if  he  expected  to 
see  ma  coming  in  behind  me.  Walking  up  I  ordered 
some  beer  and  blew  the  foam  into  the  spittoon.  I 
wish  Addie  could  see  me  now.  I  guess  it  would 
haunt  her  the  rest  of  her  days.  She  had  sent  me  to 
hell  and  she  would  have  to  suffer. 

While  I  was  drinking  and  going  to  hell  the  doors 
swung  up  and  a  tall  man  with  a  wide,  black  hat  came 
in.  He  was  tall  and  thin  and  had  his  gloves  in  his 
pants  pocket  with  the  fancy  ends  sticking  out. 
Behind  him  came  a  dog  wagging  his  tail  and  turning 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  the  way  a  dog  does  when 
he  comes  into  a  new  place.  Walking  up  to  the  bar 
the  man  hooked  his  arm  over  the  edge  and  the  dog 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

sat  down  behind  him,  with  his  tail  beating  on  the 
floor.  The  men  at  the  bar  shoved  over,  but  nobody 
paid  any  attention  to  him.  The  noise  went  right 
on,  with  the  men  pounding  on  the  bar  when  they 
wanted  to  win  an  argument. 

"Give  us  a  little  off  the  top,"  said  the  tall  man 
and  gave  a  half-dollar  a  flip.  It  went  spinning  down 
the  bar  and  fell  over  in  front  of  the  barkeeper  better 
than  any  of  them  had. 

"Don't  break  it  yet,"  said  the  man  and  turned. 
"What  "11  you  have?" 

"Nothing,  thank  you." 

I  jumped,  because  it  sounded  as  if  the  dog  had 
spoken. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  the  man  and  blew  off  his 
foam.  His  Adam's  apple  worked  up  and  down  a 
few  times  and  the  glass  was  empty.  It  was  a  big 
Adam's  apple,  but  it  had  plenty  of  space  to  move  in 
as  he  was  a  tall  man  and  it  wasn't  all  in  his  legs. 

Then  he  turned  again.  "It's  pretty  good.  Better 
have  some." 

"No,  not  to-day,  thank  you." 

I  jumped  again,  because  it  sounded  more  than  ever 
as  if  the  dog  had  said  it.  Some  of  the  other  men 
thought  so,  too,  because  they  looked  under  the  tables 
and  everywhere,  but  there  was  nobody  around.  The 
dog  was  sitting  there  with  his  nose  pointed  up,  once 
in  a  while  hitting  the  floor  a  flop  with  his  tail. 

"Just  give  me  a  little  more  off  the  same  piece. 
Better  come  on  and  have  some,  Duff." 

"No,  thank  you.     I  don't  like  it." 

Everybody  stopped  talking,  but  the  man  didn't 

66 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

pay  any  more  attention  than  if  he  was  on  a  desert. 
He  just  flipped  out  a  quarter  and  it  rolled  up  in 
front  of  the  barkeeper  and  keeled  over.  It  got  still 
in  the  room  as  usually  there  was  so  much  noise  you 
couldn't  hear  much,  but  now  nobody  was  saying 
anything.  They  were  all  looking  at  the  tall  man, 
and  then  at  the  dog  sitting  there,  once  in  a  while 
giving  the  floor  a  slap  with  his  tail.  The  tall  man 
lifted  the  glass  to  his  lips  and  the  foam  flew  off  as 
neat  as  if  he  had  taken  a  paper-cutter.  His  Adam's 
apple  trembled  a  moment,  like  a  ball  on  a  water- 
spray  at  a  shooting-gallery,  and  then  that  glass  went 
out  of  sight,  too. 

"Excuse  me,  stranger,"  said  Ed  Dawson.  "Did 
that  dog  speak  or  did  I  just  imagine  it?" 

"I  couldn't  tell  you,  friend.  I  'ain't  any  way  of 
knowing  what  you  imagine?" 

That  kind  of  set  Ed  back,  but  he  wasn't  going  to 
let  it  go  at  that. 

"Well,  then,  stranger,  I'll  just  trouble  you  to  ask 
did  that  there  dog  speak?" 

The  man  turned  around  and  looked  at  Ed  sort  of 
friendly,  but  unconcerned.  ' '  Why  was  you  askin'  ? ' ' 

"Why  was  I  askin'?"  repeated  Ed,  kind  of  stag- 
gered. "Because  I  never  heard  a  dog  speak  before 
and  I  ain't  any  spring  chicken  any  more.  Of  course 
it  ain't  any  of  my  business,  stranger,  but  does  that 
dog  speak  that  way  often?" 

"No,"  said  the  slim  man,  slapping  his  pockets  as 
if  he  had  lost  his  chewing  tobacco.  But  he  didn't 
have  to  slap  long,  as  one  of  the  men  reached  out  his. 
The  stranger  took  the  plug,  fitted  it  in  his  mouth, 

67 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

and  when  he  handed  it  back  there  wasn't  much  of  it 
left.  "Thanks,  friend,"  he  said,  and  then  turned 
and  looked  at  the  dog.  "No,  I  can't  say  as  he  does 
— he  ain't  much  of  a  talker."  Turning  he  hooked 
his  elbow  over  the  bar  as  if  there  wasn't  any  more  to 
be  said  about  it  and  began  studying  the  row  of 
brass  faucets. 

Ed  Dawson  pulled  his  chin  a  minute,  then  shook 
his  head.  It  was  too  much  for  him.  "What  '11 
you  have?" 

"I'll  have  a  little  of  the  light." 

"Pardon  me,  stranger,  but  do  you  mind  askin' 
that  dog  what  he'll  have?" 

"Certainly  not.     What  '11  you  have,  Duff?" 

The  dog  hit  the  floor  another  flop  with  his  tail. 
"I'll  take  a  bone." 

Ed  Dawson  swallowed  and  his  Adam's  apple 
began  going  up  and  down,  too.  Then  he  turned  his 
glass  down. 

"I  heard  the  same  thing,  too,"  said  one  of  the 
other  men  and  Ed  turned  his  glass  back. 

The  slim  man  leaned  over  the  bar.  "Could  you 
oblige  him  with  a  bone,  partner?  When  he  asks 
that  way  I  don't  like  to  disappoint  him." 

"Certainly,"  said  the  barkeeper  and  got  him  one 
from  the  free  lunch  and  carried  around  and  handed 
it  to  him  on  a  plate. 

"Thanks,  friend,"  said  the  dog  and  made  a  grab 
at  the  bone. 

"Is  that  all  he's  got  to  say?"  asked  one  of  the 
other  men. 

The  tall  man  turned  around  and  looked  at  the  dog 

68 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

as  if  studying  him.     "I  guess  it  is — he  don't  talk 
much  when  he's  eating." 

There  was  a  crowd  around  him,  but  he  didn't  pay 
any  more  attention  to  them  than  if  they  had  been 
chiggers.  They  were  all  pushing  around  him  except 
the  Indians — they  kept  edging  toward  the  outside. 
They  didn't  like  to  hear  a  dog  talk. 

"I  say,  stranger,"  said  Ed,  "have  you  had  that 
dog  long?" 

The  tall  man  went  on  marking  in  the  drippings, 
as  if  he  was  thinking  of  something  on  the  other  side 
of  the  world.  Then  he  seemed  to  hear.  "Since  a 
pup." 

"I'd  just  like  to  ask  you  one  more  question," 
said  Ed. 

"Glad  to  oblige,"  he  said,  wiping  off  the  end  of  his 
finger. 

"Was  that  dog  always  able  to  talk?" 

"No— I  had  to  learn  him  first." 

Taking  off  his  hat  Ed  Dawson  slapped  it  down  on 
the  counter.  "Well,  I  thought  I  had  seen  about  all 
there  was,  but  I  guess  I  'ain't.  I'm  one  to  give  a 
dollar  to  hear  that  dog  say  just  one  more  word." 

"I'm  another,"  said  one  of  the  other  men  and  his 
dollar  clanked  on  the  floor,  too.  Pretty  soon  the 
floor  was  speckled  with  dollars. 

The  dog  looked  up  from  eating.  "Thanks,"  he 
said  and  then  went  back  to  his  bone. 

Ed  Dawson  flopped  his  hat  down  on  the  counter 
till  there  wasn't  much  shape  left  to  it.     "I'll  be 
plum  horn-jiggered  and  crossed  with  a  jack-rabbit. 
I  got  to  live  a  while  longer — I  'ain't  seen  all  yet." 
6  69 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

But  the  tall  man  didn't  pay  any  attention.  He 
had  something  on  his  mind.  He  went  right  on 
marking  in  the  drippings  with  the  end  of  his  finger, 
looking  at  me  a  long  time  before  he  seemed  to  see 
me.  Then  his  eyes  began  to  bat  and  he  came  down 
the  bar. 

"Ain't  you  a  little  young  to  be  here?"  he  asks. 

"I  ain't  going  to  be  here  long,"  I  says. 

"Why?    Where  you  goin'?" 

"I  don't  know — anywhere.  It  don't  make  any 
difference." 

"What's  the  matter,  sonny?" 

"I've  been  disappointed  in  life.  I'm  going  away 
from  here." 

"Have  you  clean  made  up  your  mind?" 

"Yes." 

"Nothing  can  change  it?" 

"No,  nothing." 

He  looked  at  me  a  while,  then  said,  "Let's  get  out 
of  here  and  have  a  talk." 

The  bartender  came  hurrying  after  us  and  put  his 
hand  on  the  man's  shoulder.  ' '  You  forgot  something 
— your  money." 

"So  I  did,"  he  said,  scooping  it  up  without  much 
interest.  Then  he  turned  to  the  dog.  "Tell  'em 
good  night." 

"Good  night,  gentlemen.     Pleasant  dreams." 

It  was  more  than  the  Indians  could  stand.  In  a 
minute  they  were  out  and  up  the  street,  their  horses' 
hoofs  clattering  over  the  bridge. 

Going  to  the  elevator  we  snuggled  down  in  the 
wheat. 

70 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"What  you  runnin'  away  for?" 

"Because,"  I  says,  "I  couldn't  stay  here  now." 

"When  you  comin'  back?" 

"When  I'm  rich." 

"Has  yer  dad  licked  you?" 

"Not  lately." 

"Has  yer  ma  given  you  a  whalin'?" 

"Ma  never  does." 

It  would  have  been  scary  with  the  men  all  gone 
and  the  beams  creaking  in  the  night  wind,  and  the 
dogs  barking  louder  than  ever  because  of  the  coyotes 
trying  to  get  the  chickens,  except  for  him.  He  just 
lay  there  with  his  hands  behind  his  head,  sucking  on 
a  wheat  straw.  I  thought  he  was  never  going  to 
speak.  There  wasn't  anything  for  me  to  do  but  lie 
there  in  the  big  wheat  elevator,  listening  to  the 
things  screeching  and  complaining. 

"My  name's  Belcher,"  he  said.  "They  used  to 
call  me  'Slim' — back  there.  I  guess  there  ain't 
but  one  person  in  the  world  as  knows  I  have  any 
other  name." 

He  was  silent  again  and  all  the  crickets  and  katy- 
dids and  peepers  sang  up  and  down  on  their  tune, 
with  Duff  breaking  in  once  in  a  while  when  some 
coyote  came  too  close.  He  was  not  a  man  to  do 
much  talking.  "Well,"  he  says,  finally,  "I'm 
running  away,  too." 

I  thought  for  a  while  before  I  spoke.  I  was  be- 
ginning to  act  the  way  he  did.  "Where  are  you 
going?" 

"I  don't  know — anywhere." 

"Why  are  you  running  away?"  I  asks. 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Because  I  couldn't  stay  where  I  was." 

I  edged  up  closer  to  him.  "Was  there,"  I  says, 
dropping  my  voice —  "a  woman  in  the  case?" 

"There  was,"  he  says. 

I  knew  how  he  felt.  His  life  had  been  ruined,  too. 
It  was  wonderful.  Both  of  us  had  had  our  lives 
ruined  by  women  and  didn't  have  anything  to  live 
for. 

Reaching  over  I  took  hold  of  his  hand.  "Let's 
run  away  together,"  I  says. 

"I  been  thinkin'  the  same." 

"I'd  rather  run  away  with  somebody  than  by  my- 
self," I  says. 

"Same  here     Where  do  you  want  to  go?" 

"I  don't  care — just  so  we  go  quick." 

Edging  over  to  where  a  shaft  of  moonlight  came 
through  a  dump  hole  he  studied  his  watch.  ' '  There'll 
be  a  freight  along  in  half  an  hour.  We  could  hop 
that." 

"All  right,"  I  says.     "Let's  do." 

I  guess  that  would  teach  her  a  lesson. '  Let  her 
weep  her  eyes  out.  She'd  find  she  couldn't  trifle 
with  me. 

The  train  came  rumbling  in,  the  echo  striking 
against  the  side  of  the  elevator,  bouncing  off  again, 
hitting  the  water-tank  and  then  coming  back  again 
till  it  sounded  as  if  there  were  a  dozen  trains.  Pick- 
ing up  Duff  in  his  arms  Slim  Belcher  slipped  along 
the  cars  till  he  found  one  open.  He  gave  Duff  a 
fling  and  he  lit  on  his  feet,  the  way  dogs  always  do. 
Then  he  helped  me  up. 

72 


CHAPTER  VII 

Our  lives  are  ruined  and  we  don't  care  what  becomes  of  us.  Then  we 
smell  meat  frying.  We  go  down  to  the  Best  Place  Saloon  and  I  blow 
the  foam  off.  No  woman  can  ruin  my  life  and  live  not  to  regret  it. 

'"THE  train  rumbled  along  into  the  night,  the  cars 
1    pitching  and  swaying  and  suddenly  crashing 
into  each  other. 

Sb'm  Belcher  folded  up  his  hat  for  a  pillow  and 
stretched  back,  but  I  couldn't  sleep.  I  was  thinking. 
Where  were  we  going?  What  was  going  to  happen? 
What  would  Addie  say  when  she  found  that  she  had 
ruined  a  human  life?  She  would  regret  it,  but  it 
was  too  late  now.  Let  her  cry  her  eyes  out.  I 
wouldn't  even  write  her  a  post-card.  It  wouldn't 
do  any  good  for  her  to  keep  a  light  in  the  window  for 
me.  I  had  started  on  my  downward  career. 

At  last  Slim  edged  back  to  the  door  and  looked 
out  I  guess  we  had  better  pile  off  here.  It  ain't 
a  good  idea  to  come  into  a  town  in  daylight." 

The  name  of  the  town  was  Hurrah,  because  the 
people  liked  names  that  meant  something. 

"We'd  better  hang  around  till  it  gets  light,"  said 
Slim,  and  with  that  he  put  his  hat  under  his  head  and 
leaned  back  against  the  sanded  wall  of  the  station. 
He  could  get  more  use  out  of  his  hat  than  anybody 
I  ever  saw. 

73 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

It  was  scary  and  lonesome.  The  only  light  was 
the  red  one  at  the  switch — except  Duff's  eyes. 
Once  in  a  while  they  would  stand  out  for  a  second 
and  then  be  gone. 

"Sonny,"  said  Slim,  "I  guess  you  'ain't  ever  told 
me  your  name." 

"It's  Harold  Bowman,  but  you  can  call  me  Turkey 
the  way  the  rest  of  them  do,  if  you  want  to." 

"I  guess  this  is  about  the  first  time  you  ever  had 
business  away  from  home,  ain't  it?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  I  ain't  going  back." 

"You  air  plumb  decided  on  that?" 

"Yes." 

"Nothing  under  heaven  could  change  you?" 

"No." 

"Nor  under  the  other  place?" 

"No." 

"Well,  I  guess  you  and  me  is  alike  in  that." 

"Are  you  runnin'  away,"  I  says,  "because  you 
have  done  something?" 

"Well,  no,"  says  Slim,  thoughtfully,  "not  exactly 
that.  There  has  been  occasions,  I  expect,  when  you 
could  have  said  that,  but  this  time  it  is  different. 
It  was  because  of  a  woman.  She  was  a  music- 
teacher  and  she  would  tuck  her  violin — that  was 
what  she  called  it — under  her  chin  and  I  wouldn't 
be  there  no  more.  I  would  be  in  heaven  and  when 
she  got  through  I  couldn't  do  anything  but  just  set 
there  and  lick  my  lips.  It  would  be  quite  a  while 
before  I  could  think  of  anything  to  say,  because  the 
girls  I  had  always  associated  with  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  playing  music.  They  wore  rings  in 

74 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

their  ears  and  had  cigarette  burns.  Nobody  could 
talk  to  them  better  than  I  could.  I  was  witty  and 
could  keep  half  a  dozen  of  them  going  at  once  and 
there  was  nothing  that  they  could  say  but  that  I 
had  an  answer  for  them.  Then  I  met  Elva.  A  man 
that  I  wanted  to  get  next  to  moved  to  her  boarding- 
house — and  then  I  met  her.  It  was  strange.  With 
the  other  girls  I  could  talk  as  much  as  anybody,  but 
now  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  to  say  except  the 
weather  and  pretty  soon  that  was  covered.  I 
would  lay  awake  half  the  night  thinking  of  some- 
thing to  say  and  then  when  the  time  came  my  brain 
would  get  in  a  whirl  and  I  would  make  some  damn- 
fool  remark  that  was  plumb  ridiculous. 

"She  would  read  poetry  to  me.  It  wouldn't  have 
made  any  difference  to  me  what  she  read — I'd 
listened  anyway.  And  once  in  a  while  I  would  say, 
'Is  that  so?'  'Is  it  possible?'  or  'They  certainly  can 
use  swell  language '  to  show  that  I  understood.  Then 
one  day  Elva  came  in  the  Last  Chance  where  I  was 
operating.  She  just  looked  at  me  with  them  eyes  of 
hers,  and  when  she  went  out  I  said  I'd  never  turn 
another  wheel  and  I  'ain't. 

"I  used  to  go  out  walking  with  her  and  once  in  a 
while  her  hair  would  blow  across  my  face  and  I 
wouldn't  get  much  sleeping  done  that  night.  I  used 
to  swear  a  good  deal,  because  people  in  my  line  do. 
Then  she  mentioned  it  to  me  one  day  and  I  'ain't 
swore  since — only  once  in  a  while  when  I  get  stirred 
up  I  got  to  ease  myself  off  with  a  'dang*  or  some- 
thing light  that  way.  She  was  the  most  innocent 
creature!  She  didn't  even  know  what  a  prairie- 

75 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

dog  was.  Lordy!  how  I'd  stuff  her  on  what  lived  in 
their  holes.  She'd  believe  anything  I'd  tell  her.  I 
guess  I  could  have  told  her  that  coyotes  built  their 
nests  in  trees  and  she'd  believed  it.  Sometimes  my 
side's  just  plumb  ached,  and  then  she'd  pick  up  her — 
her  violin  and  I'd  feel  ashamed  of  myself.  How  she 
could  play !  She  could  just  bring  heaven  right  down 
and  set  it  there  on  the  floor  in  front  of  me.  When 
she'd  get  through  I  wouldn't  be  there  at  all.  I'd 
just  be  floating  through  the  skies.  Then  I'd  think 
of  the  girls  with  the  rings  in  their  ears  and  I  couldn't 
look  her  in  the  eyes.  One  day  she  dropped  her  veil 
and  I  got  it  and  kept  it  and  once  in  a  while  I  would 
look  at  it.  I  got  it  now." 

Reaching  down  in  his  pocket  Slim  Belcher  got  out 
a  buckskin  bag  and  loosened  the  drawstring. 

"That's  it — just  a  little  spider  web  with  polka- 
dots  on  it.  The  first  time  I  went  out  walking  with 
Elva  she  had  that  on." 

"I  got  something  of  my  girl's,  too,"  I  said,  and 
showed  him  Addie's  shirt.  It  made  me  gulp  to  look 
at  the  little  thing  lying  there  not  any  bigger  than  a 
napkin. 

"In  this  boarding-house  was  another  fellow  named 
Tasker.  He  was  a  preacher  and  he  would  listen  to 
her  sing.  He  would  stand  beside  her  and  turn  the 
music  for  her.  But  I  didn't  think  anything  of  it. 
because  he  was  a  preacher.  He  would  talk  to  her 
about  music  and  books  and  her  soul  and  things  that 
way  that  I  didn't  know  anything  about.  All  I  could 
talk  about  was  the  plains  and  where  I  had  been, 
because  I  never  had  much  of  a  chance.  I  never  got 

76 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

any  book-learning,  because  the  Indians  got  my  pa 
when  I  was  young,  and  pretty  soon  my  ma  died, 
because  the  work  was  more  than  she  could  stand, 
and  then  I  had  to  get  out  for  myself." 

The  baggage-truck  on  the  platform  began  to  show, 
and  then  the  milk-cans  and  the  crates  with  the 
chickens  sticking  their  necks  out,  wondering  what 
was  going  to  happen.  I  didn't  blame  them,  because 
I  knew.  They  were  going  to  the  packing-houses  in 
Omaha. 

"I  got  some  books  and  began  to  study,  because  I 
wanted  to  keep  up  with  her.  They  were  the  hap- 
piest days  I  ever  knew,  as  I  'ain't  had  many  happy 
days  in  my  life.  I  have  always  been  knocked  around 
a  good  deal.  I  was  so  happy  that  when  I  went  to 
bed  I  would  flop  down  on  my  knees  and  pray.  I 
began  to  take  a  good  deal  of  stock  in  the  preacher, 
and  one  day  I  mentioned  to  him  about  joining  the 
church  and  he  called  me  Brother.  I  began  going  to 
Sunday-school.  I  guess  that  would  have  been  a  sur- 
prise to  some  of  the  boys  at  the  Last  Chance  if  they 
had  seen  me  settin'  there  studying  about  Moses  in 
the  bulrushes.  Then  one  evening  when  I  came  back 
I  found  her  in  his  arms.  I  didn't  shoot  him  or  any- 
thing. I  just  came  away.  It  was  pretty  hard.  .  .  . 
She  was  the  first  woman  I  ever  believed  in.  .  .  ." 

"I  understand,"  I  said.     "I  believed  in  one,  too." 

"Supposing  we  go  on  together,"  said  Slim. 

"All  right,"  I  said,  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 
Then  he  folded  up  his  veil  and  I  put  away  my  shirt. 

It  was  wonderful.  Both  of  us  had  our  lives 
ruined  by  women  and  here  we  had  met.  We  would 

77 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

travel  together  and  never  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  them.  We  two  understood  each  other,  be- 
cause when  you  suffer  it  makes  you  understand. 

The  town  began  to  wake  up.  A  light  appeared 
here  and  another  there  in  the  houses  of  the  Swedes, 
because  they  are  the  first  to  get  up.  A  man  driving 
a  one-horse  wagon  came  down  the  street,  yawning 
and  cussing  when  the  wagon  went  into  a  chuck  hole. 

I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer — I  had  to  know 
about  that  dog.  The  way  Slim  acted  all  dogs  might 
talk. 

"Well,"  said  Slim,  when  I  asked  him,  "there  was 
a  good  deal  of  fake  to  that — like  there  is  to  so  many 
things  in  this  world."  I  knew  how  he  felt,  because 
I  was  getting  soured  on  the  world,  too.  "You  see 
it's  this  way.  He  doesn't  do  any  talking  at  all.  I 
got  him  trained.  When  I  make  a  motion  with  my 
hand  this  way  it's  a  sign  for  him  to  open  his  mouth. 
I'm  a  ventriloquist  and  that  explains  it.  It's  very 
simple — like  so  many  other  things — when  you  see 
into  it.  But  people  are  such  damn  fools  they'll 
believe  anything." 

Slim  didn't  think  much  of  people.  I  didn't  say 
anything,  nor  let  on,  because  I  had  been  one  of 
those  people. 

"I  guess  we'd  better  go  down-town  and  get  a  bite 
to  eat,"  said  Slim,  and  we  did  at  the  Bon  Ton  Res- 
taurant and  Cafe,  the  cook  being  careful  about  the 
flies.  Whenever  one  got  into  the  gravy  he  would 
take  it  out  with  his  iron  spoon  and  knock  it  into  the 
woodbox. 

Outside  of  Hurrah  was  the  fort  where  the  soldiers 

78 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

stayed,  because  you  could  never  tell  about  the  Ind- 
ians. The  houses  were  all  alike,  except  a  big  one 
for  the  captain.  It  was  nice  in  summer,  but  in 
winter  it  was  pretty  tough.  The  air  would  be  quiet 
and  balmy  one  day  and  then  next  day  some  thin 
clabber  clouds  would  go  skimming  by,  then  a  big 
heavy  flake  of  snow — like  a  shaving  from  a  plane — 
would  come  twisting  down  and  then  another  and 
another.  The  wind  would  come  up  and  the  snow 
would  turn  small  and  fine  and  hard,  like  bird-shot, 
and  the  blizzard  would  be  on. 

It  would  be  hard  days  for  the  range  men,  because 
they  must  keep  the  cattle  from  milling.  The  cattle 
would  turn  their  backs  to  the  storm  and  the  wind 
would  rough  up  their  hair.  White  patches  of  snow 
would  gather  where  the  hair  was  turned  up  and  the 
snow  would  stick  to  their  eyelids  till  it  froze  and 
made  a  plaster.  Day  after  day  it  would  blow  and 
never  stop,  it  would  grow  quiet  and  seem  to  be  over, 
then  it  would  begin  to  blow  harder  than  ever.  At 
last  the  sun  would  come  out  bright  and  shining  and 
the  men  would  go  out  to  the  cattle,  but  they  would 
be  lying  on  the  lee  side  of  the  hill  with  their  heads  in 
their  flanks — dead. 

Once  pap  wanted  to  get  out  to  the  barn  to  feed 
the  horse  and  ma  put  a  rope  around  his  waist. 
Through  a  crack  in  the  door  she  let  the  rope  out  till 
he  got  there  and  gave  the  signal  to  come  back. 
Then  she  pulled  him  back  foot  by  foot  till  he  fell 
inside  the  door.  One  time  one  of  the  men  at  the 
fort  missed  his  way  coming  back  and  got  down  on 
the  ground  to  crawl  along  to  find  the  track.  He 

79 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

missed  it  by  a  few  feet.  When  they  found  him  he 
was  dead,  down  on  his  knees,  his  hands  stretched 
out  trying  to  find  the  road. 

The  soldiers  came  swinging  along  on  their  horses, 
drilling.  The  captain,  with  his  sword  hanging  at  his 
side,  was  riding  at  their  head.  Once  in  a  while  he 
would  say  something  and  a  musician  would  put  a 
bugle  to  his  lips  and  the  column  would  turn  off  in 
another  direction.  He  would  say  something  else 
and  the  horses  would  keel  over  as  if  dead.  The  bugle 
would  blow  again,  the  men  leap  into  the  saddles  and 
away  they  would  dash.  It  was  pretty  nice,  and 
especially  when  the  captain's  sword  would  flash. 
It  beat  running  a  grist-mill. 

"By  whoopy,"  said  Slim,  "I  believe  it's  Captain 
Hall.  I  used  to  soldier  a  bit  and  knew  him." 

Slim  had  done  a  bit  of  everything.  Walking  up 
to  him  he  shook  hands  like  an  equal.  Captain  Hall 
had  a  sword  and  a  man  to  shine  his  shoes  and  the 
government  paid  for  his  clothes.  I  don't  know,  I 
might  be  a  soldier  before  I  was  President,  and 
especially  if  you  got  to  keep  the  sword. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  Indians?"  asked  Slim. 

The  captain  slapped  the  horn  with  his  gloves. 
Gloves  like  that — with  long  cuffs — would  be  good 
for  fighting  bumblebees,  because  the  bees  couldn't 
get  up  your  sleeves.  I'd  keep  them,  too,  because  a 
fellow  would  want  to  have  some  fun  between  dinners 
and  receptions 

"I  think  more  of  them  than  I  do  of  the  agent. 
Whenever  they  don't  know  what  to  do  with  a  man 
in  Washington  they  send  him  out  here.  Politics  is 

80 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

a  pretty  low  game.  This  one  ought  to  be  back 
there  filling  fire-buckets  and  here  he  is  agent. 
Every  time  one  of  the  Indians  gives  a  whoop  he 
wants  to  get  out  the  militia.  He  could  quiet  them 
with  the  Indian  Police,  but  instead  of  that  Weisman 
wants  to  get  out  the  cavalry  and  naturally  that  stirs 
them  up  more  than  ever." 

Slim  and  I  went  back  to  the  Best  Place  Saloon, 
because  it  wasn't  anybody's  business  if  we  went  to 
hell.  Our  lives  had  been  ruined  and  it  didn't  make 
any  difference  to  us  where  we  went. 

The  saloon  was  filled  with  scouts  and  traders  and 
white  farmers  who  had  come  in  to  get  some  whisky, 
because  living  out  on  the  farms  that  way  was  lone- 
some. There  were  pictures  on  the  walls,  but  not  as 
good  as  the  ones  on  the  walls  at  Jake's  Place. 

"Give  me  a  glass  of  suds,"  said  Slim  to  the 
barkeeper. 

I  would  show  him  that  I  was  a  man,  too.  "I'll 
take  the  same,"  I  said  and  blew  the  foam  off  just  as 
well  as  he  did.  Then  I  put  my  lips  to  it  and  let  on 
it  was  all  I  could  do  to  take  them  away  again.  It 
wouldn't  be  long  till  I  would  be  a  man. 

Suddenly  it  began  to  grow  quiet.  The  men 
stopped  rattling  the  dice  and  the  Indians  began  to 
edge  out.  Then  in  the  mirror  I  saw  a  priest  coming 
toward  me  with  his  hands  stretched  out.  He  was 
dressed  in  a  long,  black  flowing  robe  with  a  small 
black  hat  and  a  white  collar  on  backward.  Two 
men  playing  cards  at  a  table  and  shaking  their  fists 
at  each  other  stopped  and  one  of  them  pushed  the 
money  toward  the  other. 

81 


I 

TURKEY  BOWMAN 

He  was  from  the  French  Catholic  Mission  School. 
Slowly  he  came  toward  me,  a  sad,  wistful  look  on 
his  face.  But  he  had  more  whiskers  on  his  face 
than  I  would  have,  because  I  don't  ever  expect  to 
wear  whiskers.  I  would  look  more  like  George 
Washington. 

"Oh,  so  young!"  he  said,  and  put  his  hand  on  my 
head.  He  spoke  with  an  accent,  because  he  was  one 
of  the  French  missionaries  that  had  worked  among 
the  Indians  ever  since  Marquette.  "Is  eet  that  you 
will  not  have  ze  plaisair  to  come  with  me  to  my 
Mission?" 

Then  he  put  his  arm  around  Slim.  Slim  drew  up, 
because  he  was  the  first  person  to  do  that  in  a  long 
time. 

"Is  eet  that  you  will  not  come,  monsieur?" 

"You  wouldn't  want  anybody  like  me,"  said 
Slim. 

"Excuse,  monsieur,  but  eet  is  that  we  want  ze 
whole  world.  Eet  will  not  make  for  ze  harm." 

Gently  he  led  Slim  away,  running  his  beads 
through  his  fingers  and  reading  his  French  Bible, 
and  once  in  a  while  putting  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
because  he  did  not  want  to  see  me  go  to  hell  so  young. 
I  was  glad  that  I  had  not  been  swearing  when  he 
came  in. 

The  Mission  School  was  a  long,  low  stone  building 
with  a  high  wall  around  it.  Still  reading  the  Bible 
Father  Foulois  pushed  the  bell  and  an  old  Indian 
man,  who  had  been  converted,  opened  the  door  and 
crossed  himself.  A  group  of  children  came  running 
toward  Father  Foulois,  catching  at  his  robes  and 

82 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

kissing  his  hands,  but  when  they  saw  Slim  and  me 
they  drew  back. 

"Eet  is  well,  mes  enfants,  ze  whole  world  is  our 
friend.  We  have  none  to  fear." 

The  Mission  was  filled  with  boys  and  girls,  with 
some  white  children  whose  fathers  and  mothers  had 
died  trying  to  make  a  living  on  the  prairies.  Weaving 
and  sewing  and  basket-making  they  were  learning, 
playing  and  swinging  in  the  yard,  some  with  feathers 
in  their  hair  and  some  with  bows,  but  when  the  chapel 
bell  sounded  they  formed  quickly  into  line  and 
marched  in. 

There  was  a  ring  of  the  bell  and  to  the  gate  the 
old  Indian  went.  Outside  in  their  best  blankets 
were  Walking  Thunder,  his  squaw  and  four  children. 
The  oldest  was  a  girl  of  seven  named  Jennie  Bird, 
and  it  was  a  pretty  good  name,  because  she  was  little 
and  delicate  like  a  bird,  but  on  her  back  she  had  the 
youngest  child  with  its  round  face  bobbing  up  and 
down.  Jennie  Bird  was  afraid  to  get  very  far  from 
her  mother  and  clung  to  her  skirts,  but  once  in  a 
while  she  would  have  to  put  her  hand  up  to  her  fore- 
head to  see  if  her  bead  band  was  all  right.  Her 
mother  had  worked  her  initials  in  the  band  and 
Jennie  Bird  felt  pretty  proud  of  finery. 

Walking  Thunder  and  his  squaw  had  come  to  see 
their  little  boy.  At  Father  Foulois's  feet  they  fell, 
kissing  his  skirts.  Sending  for  their  son  Father 
Foulois  put  him  into  their  arms  while  they  crossed 
themselves.  Reaching  into  his  blanket  Walking 
Thunder  brought  out  an  eagle  feather  tipped  in 
red.  It  was  the  most  precious  present  that  he  could 

83 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

give  him,  as  the  eagle  was  held  sacred.  On  a  bench 
under  a  tree  Father  Foulois  left  them,  the  father 
stroking  the  boy's  hair  and  the  mother  kissing  his 
knees,  because  Indian  parents  love  their  children 
deeply.  Then  Walking  Thunder  gave  the  little 
boy  a  bit  of  pemmican  and  he  popped  it  into  his 
mouth.  He  was  happy. 

When  the  boy  had  become  sick  they  had  prayed 
to  the  Great  Spirit,  but  the  boy  had  continued  to 
grow  worse.  Four  days  and  nights  Walking  Thunder 
had  fasted,  but  hotter  and  hotter  the  boy's  forehead 
had  grown.  As  his  father  lay  on  his  blanket  in  his 
little  shanty  out  on  his  farm,  a  voice  had  sounded 
telling  him  that  he  must  take  seventy  pieces  of  flesh 
from  his  body  and  bury  them  under  a  rock  to  appease 
the  evil  spirit.  Arising  from  his  bed  Walking 
Thunder  with  his  knife  had  cut  them  from  his  body, 
some  from  his  arms,  some  from  his  breast,  and  some 
from  his  face,  in  designs  that  would  please  the  evil 
spirit,  but  the  boy's  fever  had  grown  higher.  Then 
it  went  away,  but  when  it  was  over  the  boy  was  lame 
and  the  rest  of  the  tribe  was  going  to  kill  him,  because 
there  must  be  no  weak  children.  But  Father 
Foulois  had  taken  him  away,  and  now  they  could 
come  to  see  him. 

The  dinner-bell  rang  and  the  chndren  filed  into 
the  long  dining-room,  singing  a  song  and  making 
the  cross  before  they  sat  down. 

Slim  was  stirred  at  seeing  all  these  children  trying 
to  grow  up  and  be  somebody.  "I  think  I  might  be 
able  to  entertain  them,  Father  Foulois,"  he  said,  as 
they  gathered  in  the  yard  after  dinner,  "if  you  don't 

84 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

mind."  Slim  liked  children,  but  he  didn't  have  any 
use  for  women. 

"Certainement,  eet  would  be  ze  plaisair." 

They  came  crowding  about  him  while  he  jumped 
at  them  and  barked  and  made  faces,  because  he 
was  good  at  imitating  things.  Pretty  soon  they 
were  laughing  and  jumping  up  and  down.  Then  he 
made  the  sign  to  Duff. 

"How,"  said  Duff  the  way  Indians  speak. 

The  children  looked  around  to  see  who  was 
talking. 

"I  wish  I  had  something  to  eat." 

I  knew  how  they  felt,  because  I  had  been  that  way 
the  first  time  I  had  heard  him. 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself — coming 
out  here  and  hinting  around  for  something  to  eat." 

The  children's  eyes  bulged  out  when  they  saw  that 
Slim  was  talking  to  Duff. 

"I  can't  help  it,"  said  Duff,  "nobody  offered  me 
anything." 

Their  hands  went  inside  their  shirts  and  when 
they  came  out  there  was  enough  to  feed  twenty 
dogs.  Duff  balanced  a  piece  on  his  nose  and  when 
Slim  said  the  word  he  caught  it  in  his  mouth. 

"That  piece  was  pretty  good,"  said  Duff,  and  hit 
the  ground  a  flop  with  his  tail.  "Give  me  another 
one." 

The  children  began  to  dance  and  sing,  because  it 
was  the  most  exciting  thing  that  had  happened  to 
them  in  a  long  while.  Around  Slim  they  crowded, 
sticking  their  heads  over  each  other's  shoulders 
and  looking  between  each  other's  knees.  Slim 
7.  8- 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

made  Duff  talk  some  more  and  play  dead  and  walk 
around  on  his  hind  legs,  while  the  children  danced 
and  gurgled.  Then  Duff  got  into  an  argument 
with  Slim  and  said  he  wouldn't  talk  any  more  unless 
he  got  paid  for  it,  so  Slim  had  to  hunt  around  in  his 
clothes  and  give  him  a  nickel. 

"I've  had  plenty  to  eat  now,  only  I  would  like  to 
get  a  swig  of  water." 

With  that  the  children  rushed  off  and  when  they 
came  back  they  had  all  the  pots  and  pans  on  the 
place.  "Thanks,"  said  Duff,  and  began  lapping  it 
up,  but  he  hadn't  taken  half  a  dozen  swallows  before 
there  was  a  pull  at  the  gate  and  a  quick  ringing  of 
the  bell.  It  was  Weisman,  the  Indian  agent.  His 
heavy,  frightened  face  peered  between  the  iron  bars. 

"Father  Foulois,  I  want  you  to  come  at  once. 
The  Indians  are  having  a  Ghost  Dance." 

Father  Foulois's  long,  bearded  face  grew  serious. 
He  knew  more  about  the  Indians  than  Weisman,  the 
politician,  would  ever  know. 

"Plenty  Horses  has  come  and  brought  with  him 
an  Indian  that  he  calls  the  Messiah.  They  think 
this  Messiah  is  going  to  save  them.  Blackleg  is 
among  the  cattle  and  the  Messiah  is  using  it  as  an 
excuse  to  arouse  them.  He  is  going  from  one  reser- 
vation to  another  getting  them  all  to  join  in  the 
Ghost  Dance.  I  have  telegraphed  to  the  War 
Department  for  more  soldiers." 

Father  Foulois  lifted  his  eyes.  "I  would  not 
bring  ze  soldair.  Eet  will  them  only  excite.  The 
Indians,  ah,  they  are  but  children!" 

Crops  had  been  a  failure  and  the  Indians  thought 

86 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

that  the  whites  were  to  blame.  Clothing  and  food 
had  been  promised  them  and  they  had  not  received 
it.  Smallpox  had  broken  out  among  them — the 
strange  new  spotted  disease  of  the  pale  face — and 
when  they  had  come  to  the  agency  doctor  he  had 
sent  them  off  to  a  cabin  by  themselves  and  they  had 
died.  And  always  more  and  more  whites  had  come. 
Now  the  Messiah  was  to  deliver  them! 

As  we  came  nearer  we  could  see  them.  In  a  great 
circle,  two  or  three  hundred  of  them  with  hands 
clasped  were  going  around  and  around  with 
dragging  step,  swaying  and  swinging.  In  the 
middle  stood  Plenty  Horses,  waving  a  Ghost  Stick, 
its  colored  cloth  and  feathers  flapping  in  the  wind. 
One  arm  was  extended  aloft  as  he  invited  the  Great 
Spirit  to  come  among  them. 

There  was  no  drum,  no  music,  no  fire.  From 
their  bodies  the  Indians  had  stripped  all  metal 
ornaments,  because  the  whites  made  metal  and  the 
Great  Spirit  did  not  love  the  whites.  Louder  and 
louder  grew  the  moaning  and  wailing,  the  shrieking 
and  groaning  as  around  and  around  the  dancers 
went,  some  of  them  loosening  their  hands  to  throw 
dust  in  the  air.  Their  feet  had  worn  the  ground 
smooth,  trampling  it  into  dust,  which  the  wind 
caught  up,  whirling  it  and  whipping  it  over  the 
dancers. 

"They've  got  on  their  ghost  shirts,"  said  Slim, 
and  stopped,  because  he  knew  what  that  meant. 
Some  of  the  shirts  were  made  out  of  cloth  and  some 
out  of  buckskin  with  feathers  and  quills  flopping  at 
the  sleeve.  On  the  shirts  were  painted  the  sun  and 

87 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

the  stars  and  the  thunderbird,  while  on  the  fore- 
heads of  the  dancers  were  black  half-moons.  The 
ghost  shirts  would  turn  aside  the  bullets  of  the 
white  man ! 

Higher  and  higher  grew  the  wailing,  the  dust 
sweeping  over  the  dancers  and  enveloping  them  for 
a  moment,  then  suddenly  clearing  and  letting  them 
stand  out  again.  In  the  circle  was  the  Messiah 
who  had  come  to  save  them.  He  was  dressed  in 
beads  and  porcupine  quills  with  two  feathers  in  his 
scalp-lock,  while  between  his  palms  he  rolled  an 
eagle  feather  with  the  tip  painted  red.  Round  and 
round  the  dancers  went,  some  of  the  squaws  with 
children  on  their  backs,  singing  and  shrieking. 
Suddenly  the  Messiah  paused  before  one  of  the 
dancers  with  the  sun  shining  in  the  dancer's  eyes. 
Between  his  palms  the  Messiah  rolled  the  red- tipped 
feather,  singing  and  wailing,  till  the  dancer  was 
hypnotized.  The  dancer  reeled  and  staggered  and 
then  the  ones  on  each  side  loosened  his  hand  and  he 
fell  to  the  ground.  The  circle  closed  up  and  the 
dancing  went  on.  The  Indian  lay  where  he  had 
fallen,  because  they  believed  that  he  was  com- 
muning with  the  Great  Spirit.  No  dogs  were 
allowed  as  they  might  touch  him  and  he  would 
awaken.  He  must  be  allowed  to  commune  with  the 
Great  Spirit  as  long  as  possible. 

Fifty  or  sixty  were  lying  stretched  out,  while 
others  came  to  take  their  places  as  around  and 
around  the  dancers  went.  The  Messiah  leaped  and 
rolled  his  feather,  his  voice  sometimes  shrill,  some- 
times soothing,  picking  out  the  dancers  one  by  one 

88 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

as  they  weakened.  They  were  to  depend  on  him  to 
bring  back  the  buffalo.  The  wails  grew  more  heart- 
piercing  and  the  shrieking  more  agonizing,  the 
Messiah  leaping  from  side  to  side  as  he  saw  a  dancer 
stagger.  The  dust  eddied  and  swept,  while  the  pros- 
trate dancers  lay  on  the  ground,  sometimes  moaning 
and  sometimes  stiff  and  rigid. 

Slim  advanced  closer,  stepping  over  the  fallen 
bodies,  his  eyes  on  the  leaping  and  shrieking  Mes- 
siah. "I  know  him — it's  Mike  Grass.  He's  a 
half-blood  renegade  from  the  White  Clay  Creek 
Reservation  and  at  one  time  he  had  a  white  wife. 
He's  got  more  intelligence  than  the  others  and  is 
taking  advantage  of  Plenty  Horses  and  working  up 
a  following." 

Father  Foulois  stepped  into  the  ring.  A  moment 
he  stood  in  his  black,  flowing  robes  and  then  lifted 
his  hands  to  heaven.  The  dragging  step  stopped, 
the  hands  unclasped.  The  Messiah  turned  to 
Father  Foulois  and  made  the  Indian  sign  of  de- 
rision, but  Father  Foulois  only  held  his  hands  over 
the  Messiah's  head  and  continued  to  move  his  lips. 
The  crowd  began  to  melt  away,  leaving  the  Messiah 
facing  Father  Foulois,  the  Messiah's  face  growing 
darker  and  darker.  Father  Foulois  continued  to 
pray. 

Slim  turned  to  the  sleeping  dancers.  Slowly  they 
propped  themselves  up  on  their  elbows,  blinking 
their  eyes,  because  they  expected  it  to  be  the  Great 
Spirit  and  it  was  only  Slim.  In  the  sign  language 
Slim  advised  them  to  throw  away  their  ghost  shirts 
and  go  back  to  their  reservations. 

89 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

The  Messiah  came  up  and  his  brown  hand  clutched 
Slim's  shoulder.  "What  do  you  mean?"  he  said. 
"This  is  Indian  business." 

On  the  Messiah  was  no  metal,  because  metal  was 
made  by  the  white  man  and  he  had  been  sent  to 
deliver  his  brothers  from  the  white  man.  Over  his 
shoulders  was  the  sacred  ghost  shirt,  the  quills  and 
feathers  flying.  The  black  half-moon  on  his  fore- 
head was  covered  with  dust  and  dust  had  settled  in 
his  hair,  but  through  it  his  black  eyes  shone.  He 
was  the  son  of  a  French  trapper  and  an  Indian 
squaw,  with  the  cunning  of  both  and  the  bravery  of 
neither. 

"You  are  just  stirring  up  trouble  for  yourself  and 
for  the  rest  of  them,  Mike  Grass." 

At  sound  of  his  name  the  Messiah  looked  surprised. 

"I  am  the  Messiah  and  I  have  come  to  deliver  my 
people  and  to  bring  back  the  buffalo." 

"All  you  will  bring  will  be  trouble." 

Mike  Grass  began  to  leap  and  dance.  He  would 
call  the  Great  Spirit  down  on  Slim.  He  began 
rolling  the  eagle  feather  in  Slim's  eyes,  but  Slim 
seized  it  and  crumpled  it  up.  Then  he  stamped  it 
into  the  ground. 

The  Messiah's  hand  went  under  his  ghost  shirt, 
but  before  it  could  come  out  another  hand  seized 
his  wrist.  It  was  Father  Foulois's. 

That  night  the  Messiah  with  his  followers  got 
on  their  ponies  and  rode  away  toward  another 
reservation. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

/  am  getting  so  I  can  swear  pretty  good.  All  I  need  is  a  little  more  prac- 
tice and  I  will  be  somebody.  It's  a  great  relief  to  be  rid  of  the  oppo- 
site sex  and  no  more  worries.  I  arrive  at  the  C  Q  and  have  plenty 
to  eat. 

HTHE  next  morning  when  I  woke  up  Slim's  cot  was 
A  empty.  The  room  at  the  hotel  where  we  were 
staying  was  pretty  badly  littered,  because  the  men 
didn't  keep  it  very  clean.  Some  of  them  would 
sleep  with  their  boots  on  as  it  would  be  all  they 
could  do  to  get  there.  On  the  wall  were  a  good 
many  "Rewards  Dead  or  Alive,"  with  pictures  of 
the  men,  but  mostly  it  was  of  women  trying  to  kick 
a  rich  man's  hat. 

I  started  down  the  street  wondering  what  had 
happened  to  Slim,  when  I  saw  him  coming  toward 
me.  Duff  was  trotting  at  his  heels,  swinging  his 
head  from  side  to  side,  stopping  once  in  a  while, 
when  another  dog  came  along,  to  ruffle  up  his  hair. 
It  was  strange  how  Duff  could  act  so  intelligent 
and  be  one  of  us,  and  then  the  minute  another  dog 
showed  up  ruffle  up  his  hair,  scratch  his  hind  feet 
and  be  all  dog. 

"Come  on,"  said  Slim.  "I've  got  a  job  for  us. 
I  met  Mr.  Harbaugh  and  he's  going  to  give  us  a 
job  at  the  C  Q." 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  you,"  said  Slim —  "you're  to  be  assistant 
cook." 

"What  does  an  assistant  cook  have  to  do?" 

"Keep  the  cook's  whisky  hid." 

The  chuck  wagon  was  waiting  for  us  and  we  piled 
on.  It  was  filled  with  food  and  clothing  and  sheep 
dip  and  things  we  would  need.  Mr.  Harbaugh 
himself  was  there,  but  hurried  ahead  on  his  pony. 
The  wagons  creaked  and  across  the  prairies  we 
started  for  the  ranch.  Slim's  arm  would  circle  a 
couple  of  times,  his  wrist  would  snap  and  the  cracker 
of  the  whip  would  come  within  an  inch  of  a  horse 
and  never  touch  him.  There  were  eight  wagons  in 
all,  but  none  of  the  men  were  so  good  a  driver  as 
Slim.  His  team  would  come  in  at  the  end  of  the 
day  without  a  collar  mark. 

Land,  land,  land  everywhere — that  was  all  there 
was.  You  could  stand  up  and  as  far  as  you  could 
see  there  was  nothing  but  land.  And  then  you  could 
curl  up  on  the  buffalo  robe  and  go  to  sleep  and  when 
you  woke  up  it  was  still  land.  Sometimes  it  would  be 
rough  and  rocky,  with  sparks  flying  from  the  tires  and 
then  sometimes  it  would  be  soft  and  dusty  with  the 
wagons  sinking  through  as  if  there  wasn't  any  bottom. 

These  were  the  stately  hills  that  had  enough  rock 
in  them  to  build  a  wall  around  the  world,  enough 
marble  to  rebuild  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  and 
enough  iron  to  build  a  railroad  to  the  moon.  It 
was  wonderful,  and  the  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield 
certainly  could  make  a  fellow  feel  rich,  but  I  wished 
there  hadn't  been  so  many  buffalo  gnats. 

92 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

It  was  inspiring  to  look  at  all  this  land  and  think 
how  a  new  country  was  being  born.  We  met  a 
party  of  surveyors;  soon  now  where  there  were  only 
prairie-dogs  and  tumble-weeds  a  town  would  spring 
up  and  somebody  would  be  running  for  office. 

We  passed  half  a  dozen  Indians  on  horseback, 
dressed  in  their  best  blankets,  going  to  see  the 
governor,  because  they  didn't  think  they  were  being 
treated  right.  This  part  of  the  country  belonged  to 
the  cattlemen,  but  pretty  soon  the  farmers  would  be 
arriving  in  their  covered  wagons,  looking  for  the 
best  water-holes.  A  church  would  go  up,  a  jail, 
and  then  pretty  soon  they  would  start  a  campaign 
to  be  the  county  seat. 

Once  in  a  while  we  would  come  to  a  lone  house 
with  one  tree  that  had  lived,  with  soapsuds  around 
the  bottom  where  they  had  poured  the  wash-water. 
Away  off  across  the  prairies  would  be  a  man  with 
his  hat  flopping,  with  a  lot  of  dogs  running  around 
him,  and  we  would  know  that  it  was  an  Indian. 
They  were  trying  to  farm,  but  couldn't  make  much 
of  a  success  of  it.  It  was  all  the  white  farmers 
could  do,  and  a  good  many  of  them  were  giving  it  up. 

A  circle  of  black  smoke  rose  against  the  gray 
prairie  and  then  disappeared.  In  a  couple  of 
seconds  another  went  twisting  and  turning  up. 

"What  are  those?"  I  asked. 

"Indian  signals,"  said  Slim.  "They're  always 
talking  back  and  forth — especially  since  this  Messiah 
craze  started." 

"What  do  they  say?" 

"Nothing  much,  I  guess." 

93 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Sometimes  Duff  would  trot  along  in  the  shade  of 
the  wagons  and  sometimes  he  would  go  dashing 
after  a  prairie-dog.  It  would  stand  with  its  paws 
folded  till  he  got  almost  up.  Then  it  would  turn  a 
somersault  and  Duff  would  come  back  completely 
sold  out.  But  it  never  taught  him  anything.  The 
next  time  he  saw  one  back  would  go  his  ears  and 
away  he  would  sail.  Then  he  would  feel  sorry  for 
him  and  put  him  up  in  the  feed-box  and  he  would 
ride  along  with  his  head  bobbing  up  and  down — till 
he  saw  another  prairie-dog.  Giving  a  yelp  out  he 
would  dive  and  back  would  go  his  ears.  It  seemed 
strange  a  dog  so  intelligent  as  Duff  was  and  who 
could  act  as  well  as  he  could  didn't  have  any  more 
sense  about  chasing  prairie-dogs.  Dogs  are  queer 
that  way. 

At  night  we  would  bring  the  wagons  into  a  hollow 
square,  the  blacksnakes  popping  and  the  men  singing 
out,  "Swing  in  there,  Buck!"  "Crowd  over  there, 
Mack!"  "Whoa!  Gee-up!"  "Hold  it,  I  say,  hold 
it!"  "Steady,  old  boy.  Whoa-a!"  The  tongues 
of  the  wagons  would  be  propped  up  and  in  a  minute 
the  harness  would  be  spread  along  them.  The 
extra  horses  following  behind  would  be  brought  in, 
the  last  wagon  blocked  into  place,  and  then  the  odor 
of  fried  bacon  would  begin  to  make  a  fellow's  nose  itch. 

We  would  go  to  bed  in  the  wagons  and  lie  there 
and  look  up  at  the  stars.  There  wouldn't  be  a  sound 
but  the  horses  blowing  their  nose  and  away  off  in 
the  distance  a  coyote  sending  up  a  call  to  his  mate. 
It  was  lonesome  and  kind  of  glorious  at  the  same 
time. 

94 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"What  do  you  think  all  those  stars  up  there  are 
for?"  I  asked  in  a  whisper,  because  when  you  are 
feeling  solemn  that  way  and  dry  in  the  mouth, 
talking  doesn't  seem  right. 

"I  don't  know,"  says  Slim,  "but  I  bet  there's 
trouble  on  them  if  they's  any  women  up  there." 

Slim  didn't  care  for  women  any  more. 

Then  next  morning  we'd  get  up  and  have  break- 
fast with  a  lantern  hanging  on  a  forked  stick  and  be 
on  our  way  again. 

At  last  we  got  to  the  C  Q.  A  ways  off  it  looked 
like  a  village  because  there  were  so  many  buildings. 
Behind  a  house  a  windmill  was  screeching  away. 

Bun  Wah,  the  Chinese  cook,  came  to  the  door  of 
the  cook  shanty,  his  hands  up  his  sleeves,  his  hair 
in  a  pigtail.  I  was  to  be  his  assistant. 

Reaching  up  Bun  Wah  took  hold  of  the  bell  rope 
and  the  pole  began  to  rock.  The  men  began  coming 
in  from  the  sheep-sheds,  harness-barns,  and  corrals, 
taking  off  their  hats  and  sailing  them  through  the 
air.  They  washed  up  behind  the  windmill,  making 
a  good  deal  of  noise,  spluttering  and  blowing  through 
their  fingers.  They  kept  hollering  back  and  forth 
and  joking,  but  when  they  went  inside  to  the  table 
they  couldn't  think  of  anything  to  say.  As  soon  as 
they  got  out  they  were  all  right,  but  inside  they  were 
changed  men. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harbaugh  ate  at  the  house  by  them- 
selves, with  a  girl  to  cook  for  them.  Mr.  Harbaugh 
came  in  and  leaned  against  the  door  with  one  foot 
crossed  behind  him,  the  rowel  in  his  spur  still 
turning. 

95 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Boys,  you'd  better  turn  in  a  bit  early  to-night — I 
guess  we  got  to  do  a  little  riding  in  the  morning.  I 
saw  some  tracks  over  on  Snake  River  that  I  didn't 
like  the  looks  of.  I  think  we'd  better  follow  them 
up,  and  if  some  of  you  happen  to  sling  a  rifle  on 
your  saddle  it  wouldn't  cause  any  comment  on  this 
end  of  the  range.  It's  all  right  to  carry  a  little  lead 
on  your  hip — that  don't  count — but  I  don't  like  to 
see  neighbors  and  homefolks  going  in  for  the  heavy 
stuff — unless  they  got  a  reason." 

When  I  got  up  the  next  morning  the  cots  were  all 
empty.  Nor  did  the  men  come  back  by  noon. 
That  evening  two  of  the  men,  Al  Gurney  and  Bush 
Millman,  came  in  looking  pretty  tired.  More  of 
them  returned  the  next  day,  but  it  was  a  couple  of 
days  before  all  of  them  were  in. 

"The  range  is  gettin'  pretty  dry  and  hard  to 
follow  now,"  said  Mr.  Harbaugh.  "We  won't  do 
any  suspicionin/  but  we  won't  go  to  sleep  in  our 
saddles." 

I  began  to  like  it  at  the  C  Q — especially  the 
eating.  Away  the  men  would  go  in  the  morning, 
whistling  and  singing,  and  that  evening  they  would 
come  in  tired  and  quiet,  but  when  they  came  out  of 
the  mess  shack  they  would  begin  pitching  horse- 
shoes and  turning  handsprings.  Then  Bun  Wah 
would  clear  off  the  table  and  the  men  would  begin 
playing  poker  and  joking.  No  difference  how  early 
I  would  wake  up  in  the  morning  the  cots  would  be 
empty.  Bun  Wah  would  be  out  behind  the  windmill 
paring  potatoes. 

"Bun  Wah  go  catchee  piece  blekflust  for  nice 

96 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

boy.  Pletty  nicee  all  samee  have  number  two 
cook." 

Then  he  would  sit  by  my  side  while  I  ate.  We  had 
things  the  rest  of  them  didn't.  Sometimes  Mrs. 
Harbaugh  would  invite  me  to  supper  with  them  and 
they  would  have  some  of  the  same  things.  "You'd 
better  come  over  oftener,"  Mrs.  Harbaugh  would 
say.  "I  guess  you  get  tired  of  having  the  same 
things  over  and  over  and  never  any  little  knick- 
knacks.  Here  is  some  watermelon  rind  for  you." 
And  that  morning  I  had  had  all  I  could  hold.  Bun 
Wah  was  on  to  his  job. 

But  I  didn't  like  to  eat  at  the  house.  It  was  too 
fancy  and  there  wasn't  any  swearing.  I  was  getting 
to  be  a  pretty  good  swearer.  I  could  stand  right  up 
alongside  Al  Gurney  or  any  of  the  men  and  tell  a 
steer  where  to  go  to.  I'd  like  Addie  to  hear  me.  I 
guess  Hoot  Howden  and  the  rest  of  them  would 
seem  tongue-tied  alongside  me  now.  My  day  was 
coming  all  right. 

In  the  poker  games  Bun  Wah  would  generally  win. 
He  would  sit  there  with  his  yellow  hands  coming  out 
of  his  long  sleeves,  no  more  expression  on  his  face 
than  on  a  plate  of  fried  mush,  and  when  we  would 
quit  most  of  the  money  would  be  in  his  belt.  Even 
when  he  would  go  away  there  wouldn't  be  no  more 
expression  on  his  face  than  on  a  skillet. 

"He's  been  winning  too  much,"  said  Bush  Mill- 
man  one  day.  "Let's  clean  him  out." 

But  they  didn't.  Bun  Wah  sat  at  the  end  of  the 
table,  reaching  out  once  in  a  while  to  straighten  the 
candle  in  the  bottle,  but  mostly  to  draw  in  the 

97 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

money.  The  rest  of  us  could  talk  and  joke,  but 
Bun  Wah  kept  his  eyes  on  our  faces.  But  when  he 
lost  it  was  just  the  same  as  when  he  won.  No 
difference.  There  wouldn't  be  any  more  expres- 
sion in  his  eyes  than  there  would  be  in  a  couple  of 
knot-holes. 

"Holy  catfish!"  said  Bush  one  evening,  "I'd  like 
to  know  what  he's  got." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  a  voice. 

Bun  Wah  jerked  his  cards  down  and  looked 
around.  His  eyes  began  to  bat. 

"Whospeakee?" 

Slim  made  the  motion  and  Duff  walked  around  in 
front  of  Bun  Wah  and  sat  down. 

"He's  got  four  of  a  kind."  Duff's  tail  hit  the 
floor  a  flop.  "I  can't  tell  what  the  other  is." 

Bun  Wah  was  out  of  his  chair.  "Me  catchee 
bad  devil,"  he  said,  and  began  dancing  over  the 
floor.  There  was  plenty  of  expression  on  his  face 
now.  I  guess  he  could  have  gone  through  an  earth- 
quake and  there  wouldn't  have  been  any  more 
expression  on  his  face.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  this 
was  the  first  time  that  Bun  Wah  had  ever  heard  a 
dog  talk. 

"All  samee  he  no  speak  again." 

Slim  turned  to  the  dog.  "Do  you  want  to  try  it 
again?" 

Duff's  tail  hit  the  floor.     "Yes." 

"I'll  shuffle  them,"  said  Al  Gurney  and  dealt  out 
a  hand  to  Bun  Wah,  while  Slim  got  up  and  walked 
around  the  table.  Bun  Wah  looked  at  the  cards 
and  pulled  them  down  in  his  sleeve. 

98 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"How  muchee  Bun  Wah  catchee?"  he  asked, 
without  taking  his  eyes  off  Duff. 

"Two  of  a  kind,  a  jack,  a  six,  and  a  deuce." 

It  was  right.  Bun  Wah's  eyes  began  to  bat 
faster  than  ever.  "No  savvy,"  he  said,  and  when 
he  went  to  bed  he  was  still  shaking  his  head  and 
talking  to  himself.  Bun  Wah  was  mystified.  He 
had  never  seen  anything  like  that.  I  guess  it  did 
look  pretty  mysterious  to  him. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  he  was  behind 
Slim's  plate.  "Velly  smart  dog.  How  do?" 

"It's  perfectly  easy  and  natural, ' '  said  Slim.  ' ' He 
just  looks  at  the  cards  and  then  says  what  they 
are.  I  don't  know  of  any  other  way  he  could  do  it, 
do  you?" 

Bun  Wah  did  not.  But  that  did  not  help  him 
very  much.  Every  time  Duff  came  around  Bun  Wah 
would  stop  and  look  at  him,  putting  his  hands  on 
his  knees  and  bending  over.  Then  he  would  go  off 
shaking  his  head.  It  was  more  than  he  could 
understand. 

A  few  days  later  a  chuck  wagon  came  creaking 
up,  and  the  men  threw  out  the  lines,  because  when 
you  want  to  stay  overnight  on  the  trail  you  don't 
have  to  ask.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  drive  up  and 
tell  them  that  you  are  there,  because  some  night 
you  might  be  caught  out  on  the  range  yourself,  and 
it  might  be  a  blizzard.  People  had  to  stick  together. 

It  was  a  wagon  from  one  of  the  ranches  farther  up 
the  valley.  Sitting  humped  up  on  a  salt  sack  was 
their  new  Chinese  cook  they  were  bringing  out 
from  Hurrah. 

99 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Bun  Wah  could  hardly  wait  till  after  supper,  he 
was  so  anxious  to  show  him  something.  He  brought 
him  in  to  where  Duff  was  sitting  on  the  floor  behind 
Slim.  Then  he  began  to  talk  in  Chinese,  his  voice 
running  up  and  down  in  a  singsong  and  playing  all 
kinds  of  tunes  along  the  way.  I  could  see  that  Bun 
Wah  was  fixing  it  up  fancy  and  telling  what  all  Duff 
could  say  and  adding  to  it  a  little  and  drawing  on 
his  imagination  until  he  had  Duff  discussing  the 
weather  and  telling  about  how  many  dogs  he  could 
lick.  But  the  new  Chinese  cook  didn't  swallow  it. 

"No  can  do,"  he  said  when  Bun  Wah  stopped. 

Then  Bun  Wah  began  again,  running  up  and  down 
the  scale  and  turning  a  somersault  at  the  end  of  the 
sentence,  but  the  new  cook  shook  his  head.  He 
wasn't  going  to  have  anything  like  that  put  over  on 
him.  ' '  Un-gung-wu-git-soo  -tien-lung-sut-sing-cow- 
sung — " 

The  other  stopped  him.     "No  can  do." 

Bun  Wah  turned  to  Slim.  "Him  big  fool.  Me 
bet  ten  dollar." 

Reaching  in  his  belt  Bun  Wah  got  out  a  gold 
piece  and  put  it  on  the  table,  and  the  strange  Chinese 
fished  out  his. 

"All  light,"  said  Bun  Wah.     "Catchee  card." 

Picking  up  the  deck  Al  Gurney  shuffled  it  while 
Slim  walked  around  behind.  Then  he  dealt  the 
cards.  The  new  Chinese  looked  at  them  and  drew 
them  down  into  his  sleeve. 

"Now  speakee,"  said  Bun  Wah  and  turned  to 
Duff. 

"He  has  the  trey  of  diamonds,  six  of  clubs,  big 
100 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Gus,  and  a  couple  of  jacks."     Duff's  tail  hit  the 
floor. 

The  new  Chinese  looked  at  his  cards  again,  while 
his  eyes  began  to  bat,  too.  Out  went  Bun  Wah's 
yellow  hands  and  into  his  belt  went  the  money. 
"Him  velly  big  fool,"  he  said. 

Bun  Wah  was  happy  and  for  a  couple  of  evenings 
he  sang  and  played  on  his  long-necked  banjo  with- 
out the  men  having  to  throw  him  any  money.  He 
called  it  singing,  but  it  sounded  more  like  something 
under  a  gate.  And  then  one  evening  another  wagon 
turned  up  off  the  trail  and  came  in.  It  was  a  wagon 
from  the  Double  D  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley, 
and  on  it  they  had  a  negro  cook.  His  name  was 
Wash.  He  could  not  eat  with  us  men,  but  had  to 
wait  for  the  cook's  table.  In  the  kitchen  with  Bun 
Wah  he  sat,  Wash  on  one  side  of  the  table  and  Bun 
Wah  on  the  other — only  Wash  was  getting  the  most 
to  eat.  Out  in  the  yard  the  men  were  pitching 
horseshoes  at  a  dollar  a  ringer — all  except  Slim.  It 
was  his  night  with  the  cattle.  Somebody  had  to  be 
with  the  cattle  all  the  time  now,  because  they  had 
been  disappearing  lately. 

The  noise  inside  the  kitchen  began  getting  higher 
and  higher.  And  then  Wash  came  out  waving  his 
hands. 

"G'wan — what  yoah  givin'  me?  Don't  yoah 
come  tellin'  me  nuthin'  lak  dat.  No,  suh,  not  ole 
Wash.  I  guess  he  wasn't  bawn  yestiday.  Don't 
yoah  reckon  I  growed  up  wif  dawgs?  No,  suh. 
Wash  may  look  lak  a  fool  and  he  may  ack  like  a 
fool,  but  all  the  same  he  got  good  sense." 
8  ioi 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Bun  Wah  came  shuffling  out  behind  him  with  his 
hands  in  his  sleeve. 

"Velly  well— me  bet  ten  dollar." 

"G'wan,  ole  Wash  don't  want  yo'r  money.  Him 
gettin'  good  pay  and  his  ole  woman  done  run  off 
and  married  anudder  man  anyway.  G'wan  wid 
yo'r  scapdallings." 

"Me  bet  twenty  dollar." 

"What  fo'  yoah  mean?  Dey  ain't  no  dawg  as 
eber  spoke  and  none  as  eber  will.  If  dey  was  I  guess 
ole  Wash  'd  heard  of  it  before  dis.  He  'ain't  been 
daid  all  dese  yeahs." 

"Me  bet  t'irty  dollar." 

I  looked  at  Bun  Wah  and  shook  my  head,  because 
Slim  wasn't  there,  but  he  didn't  pay  any  attention. 
It  was  too  easy  a  chance  to  make  some  money 
gambling. 

"Whar  dat  dawg?"  asked  Wash  at  last,  turning 
his  yellow  eyes  around.  "I  say,  whar  is  he?  Pro- 
juce  him.  Dat's  what  I  say — projuce  him." 

"Dis  him,"  said  Bun  Wah,  taking  his  hand  out  of 
his  sleeve  to  point  to  Duff. 

"What — dat  dawg!  Not  much.  Why,  dat  dawg 
is  just  a  common  ordinary  ebery-day  ole  bone-eater 
crossed  with  a  bullfrog  or  somefin'.  Dat's  what  I 
say.  I  guess  he  couldn't  stan*  on  his  hind  laigs,  let 
alone  talk.  Ole  Wash  ain't  nobody's  fool." 

"Me  bet  forty  dollar." 

Out  on  the  table  Bun  Wah  laid  the  gold  pieces  and 
put  his  hands  back  in  his  sleeves. 

Picking  up  the  money  Wash  rang  it  and  bit 
it.  He  wasn't  going  to  take  any  risk.  "It  smell 

102 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

all  right,  it  taste  all  right,  what  fo'  wrong  wif  dat 
money?" 

"Him  velly  nicee  money.    You  likee  bet?" 

"Sho'  I'll  bet  on  money  lak  dat,"  said  Wash,  and 
took  off  his  shoes  and  got  his  money. 

Bun  Wah  was  smiling.  I  guess  there  wasn't 
anything  that  would  make  him  smile  quicker  than 
making  money  betting. 

"You  catchee  card,"  he  said,  passing  the  deck 
to  Al  Gurney.  Al  rapped  them  on  the  table, 
evened  them  up  and  passed  them  out  while  Bun 
Wah  stood  with  the  same  pleased  expression  on 
his  face.  Wash  picked  up  his  hand  and  looked 
at  it. 

"AUleddy?" 

"I  sho'  am." 

"All  light,"  said  Bun  Wah,  and  turned  to  Duff. 
"Speakee." 

But  Duff  only  looked  at  Bun  Wah  a  moment  and 
then  turned  his  head  away.  He  didn't  even  know 
what  Bun  Wah  was  talking  about. 

"Nice  doggie,  speakee." 

But  Duff  didn't  speak.  He  just  looked  around, 
mystified. 

Bun  Wah  didn't  understand.  He  patted  him  on 
the  head  and  lifted  his  tail  so  that  he  could  hit  the 
floor,  but  Duff  only  turned  around  and  sat  down  in  a 
new  place. 

"Velly  nice  doggie.     Speak  for  fiend." 

Then  he  went  and  got  a  bone  and  dangled  it  before 
Duff's  nose.  "Velly,  velly  nice  doggie.  Speakee 
for  nice  fiend." 

103 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Out  went  Duff's  neck  and  he  had  the  bone  in  his 
mouth. 

Wash  looked  toward  the  table.  "I  guess  he  am 
through  wif  de  conversation,"  he  said.  "Come 
heah,  mah  honey,"  and  with  that  he  raked  in  the 
money. 

Out  the  door  Duff  trotted  with  the  bone  in  his 
mouth  to  find  a  good  place  to  enjoy  it.  Bun  Wah 
stood  in  the  door  shaking  his  fist  after  him.  "Some- 
time he  talkee  and  sometime  he  dammee  fool.  Bun 
Wah  no  savvy." 

With  that  Bun  Wah  shuffled  back  toward  the  cook 
shack  saying  over  and  over  something  about  dammee, 
and  it  was  three  days  before  he  would  fry  us  any 
mush. 


CHAPTER  IX 

I  go  on  eating,  but  all  the  time  I  am  thinking.  Slim  makes  some  vinegar 
candy  and  gets  tired  of  gabble,  gabble,  gabble.  I  don't  blame  him, 
because  I'd  rather  be  dead  than  tied  down  to  one  of  the  opposite  sex. 
They  are  all  alike.  No  difference  how  you  treat  them,  you  got  to 
watch  out  for  the  dish-water. 

ONE  evening  when  we  came  in,  the  boys  sailing 
their  hats  through  the  air  as  they  lined  up 
at  the  trough,  Mrs.  Harbaugh  was  standing  at 
the  window,  watching.  She  had  lace  curtains  and 
was  a  lady.  Mr.  Harbaugh  had  left  that  morning 
for  a  trip  out  across  the  range,  because  he  did  not 
like  the  looks  of  some  things. 

We  hadn't  any  more  than  sat  down  and  got  two 
or  three  biscuits  apiece  swallowed  than  Mrs.  Har- 
baugh appeared  at  the  door.  "Boys,"  she  said,  "I 
want  to  speak  to  you." 

The  men  all  stopped  eating  and  Slim  Belcher 
stood  up  with  his  hands  behind  him,  as  if  a  doctor 
was  going  to  look  down  his  throat.  Like  me,  Slim 
didn't  have  any  use  for  women,  but  when  he  was 
cornered  he  acted  like  a  gentleman. 

"Go  ahead,  lady,"  said  Slim. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you  now  so  that  I  could  make 
my  plans.  This  afternoon  a  runner  came  in  with  a 
message  from  Hurrah  that  Mr.  Hazleton  was  coming. 

105 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Mr.  Hazleton,  you  know,  is  from  New  York  and 
furnishes  the  money  for  this  ranch.  We  want  to  be 
nice  to  him.  But  the  message  said  that  Mr.  Hazle- 
ton had  been  called  back  by  business  and  would  be 
delayed,  but  that  his  daughter  would  come  on  the 
rest  of  the  way  by  herself.  Some  of  you  may  have 
heard  him  speak  of  her." 

"I  have,"  said  Al  Gurney."  "He  used  to  have  her 
picture  in  the  back  of  his  watch.  Nice  curly-haired 
little  thing.  I  guess  he  thinks  she  is  about  the  only 
calf  on  the  range." 

"Naturally,"  said  Mrs.  Harbaugh.  "What  parent 
wouldn't?"  She  stopped  and  swallowed,  because 
she  had  always  wanted  one  and  all  she  had  was 
a  lamb. 

"How's  she  going  to  get  out?"  asked  Al  Gurney. 

"That's  just  it.  She's  waiting  in  Hurrah.  Mr. 
Hazleton  sent  word  for  us  to  bring  her  on  out.  I 
don't  know  just  how  we're  going  to  do  it." 

"I  do,"  said  Al.  "We  can  hitch  up  the  buck- 
board — and  by  starting  at  daylight  we  can  get  to 
Hurrah  one  day,  then  start  back  the  next  morning. 
It  would  be  pretty  hard  driving,  but  that  would  be 
better  than  leaving  her  there  without  anybody  to  look 
after  her." 

"Of  course  it  would,"  said  Bush  Millman.  "I'll 
go  after  her.  I  wouldn't  mind  it  at  all.  I  wonder 
if  the  big  boss  is  goin'  to  bring  any  cigars  this  time." 

"One  of  you  boys  grease  up  the  buckboard,  put 
in  some  alfalfa  and  the  jugs  and  we'll  see  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Harbaugh. 

Slim  went  on  eating  with  his  head  down.  I  could 

106 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

see  that  he  was  having  an  idea.  An  idea  didn't 
come  sudden  to  Slim.  You  could  see  it  blowing  and 
turning  and  churning  and  darkening  up  in  the  west, 
and  then  the  leaves  would  rustle  and  there'd  be  a 
little  flutter,  and  then  another,  and  then  pretty  soon 
there'd  be  a  right  smart  agitation. 

He  didn't  go  out  in  the  front  yard  with  the  other 
men  to  settle  his  supper.  Instead  he  took  off  his 
hat  and  knocked  at  Mrs.  Harbaugh's  door. 

"I  been  thinkin'  about  that  girl  comin'  here  and 
I  want  to  help  make  it  nice  for  her,"  said  Slim. 
"  Comin'  out  here  so  far  from  New  York  I  guess 
she'll  be  kind  of  lonesome  and  I'd  like  to  help  make 
it  interestin*.  We  could  make  a  hammock  for  her. 
We  got  some  extra  barrels  and  could  knock  'em 
down  and  throw  a  blanket  over  the  staves;  because 
this  time  of  year  a  sheepskin  is  too  smelly.  We 
could  swing  it  under  the  shed  where  Bun  Wah 
peels  his  potatoes,  because  a  little  sun  ain't  going  to 
hurt  him.  I  used  to  have  a  little  sister  back  home, 
all  curls  and  thinkin'  I  was  somebody.  It's  kind 
of  inspiring  to  have  a  person  believin'  in  you  that 
way. 

"I  ain't  much  of  a  cook,  Mrs.  Harbaugh,  but  I'd 
like  to  try  my  hand  fixin'  up  some  vinegar  candy 
for  her.  Like  enough  she'd  want  to  put  some  of  it 
in  my  hair;  but  shucks,  I  wouldn't  care.  I'd  rather 
see  them  full  of  mischief  than  sittin'  around  with 
their  mouths  hanging  down  like  stirrups.  I  guess  I 
got  a  picture  of  Edie  somewhere." 

Slim  got  out  his  pocketbook.  It  had  been  sweat 
through  a  good  many  times,  but  it  still  held  together. 

107 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"She's  dead  now.  I  guess  maybe  that's  what 
started  me  wandering.  ...  I  'ain't  ever  had  much 
to  live  for." 

Slim  looked  off  over  the  hills  to  where  the  trail 
was  fading  out  in  the  evening  and  swallowed.  His 
Adam's  apple  bobbed  up  and  down,  because  he  had 
an  uncommonly  big  one. 

"I  thought  I  had  lost  it  once  and  walked  back 
twenty  miles  and  found  it  under  some  Johnson 
grass.  Can  you  see  any  resemblance?" 

"I  think  she  has  your  eyes." 

"A  good  many  people  have  said  that.  She  used 
to  get  up  on  my  back  and  her  little  legs  would  stick 
out  about  this  far.  When  her  doll  was  broke  there 
wasn't  anybody  who  could  fix  it  but  me.  I  guess 
you  would  'a*  laughed  to  see  an  old  cow-puncher  like 
me  sittin'  there  trying  to  sew  an  arm  on  a  doll. 
One  time  her  cat  fell  down  the  well  and  I  went  down 
after  it,  sticking  my  toes  in  the  rocks,  and  she  turned 
around  and  named  her  cat  Norman  after  me.  The 
name  didn't  fit  very  well,  because  one  day  Norman 
brought  in  a  nest  of  kittens.  With  you  tellin'  about 
this  one  brings  it  all  back  and  I  wish  you'd  let  me 
go  after  her.  She  wouldn't  get  lonesome,  Mrs. 
Harbaugh,  because  I  am  right  comical  around 
children.  I  ain't  much  of  a  talker  around  old 
people,  but  me  and  kids  always  have  good  times." 

"It  would  be  a  hard  trip,  Slim.  You'd  have  to 
start  early  in  the  morning  and  drive  all  day  and 
then  the  next  day  turn  around  and  drive  back." 

"That  ain't  anything,  Mrs.  Harbaugh.  I  guess 
I  know  where  the  water-holes  are  and  could  keep  the 

108 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

jugs  filled  up  and  some  wet  alfalfa  for  the  horses. 
Can  I  do  it,  Mrs.  Harbaugh?" 

"All  right,  Slim,  you  may  be  the  one  to  go." 

"Thankee,"  said  Slim.  "I  guess  I  won't  get  much 
sleep  to-night  for  thinking  about  it." 

But  I  guess  he  did,  because  the  next  morning  he 
was  up  bright  and  early,  out  behind  the  cook-house, 
shaving  and  whistling.  He  had  a  new  handkerchief 
around  his  neck  and  raising  up  the  seat  of  the  buck- 
board  he  put  in  two  more. 

"It  may  seem  a  good  ways  goin',  but  it  ain't  goin' 
to  seem  very  far  comin*  back,  Mrs.  Harbaugh.  I 
been  thinking  up  some  comical  things  to  say  to  her. 
You  ought  to  see  me  when  I  get  strung  out  once." 
Slim  laughed  and  slapped  his  gauntlet  gloves.  "I 
guess  I'd  surprise  you.  And  you  ought  to  hear  me 
imitatin'  things — especially  two  old  cats.  You 
better  have  some  bread  and  syrup  when  we  get  back. 
They  always  like  that." 

Slim  slapped  the  lines  over  the  backs  of  the  driving 
ponies  and  away  he  went.  When  he  got  to  the  top 
of  the  last  ridge  he  waved,  and  then  he  dropped  out 
of  sight. 

Al  Gurney  and  I  fixed  up  the  hammock  with  a 
blanket  and  a  string  to  pull  it  by,  and  then  next 
evening  with  the  telescope  we  saw  them  coming. 

"They're  away  over  on  Little  Crossing,"  Al  said, 
as  he  steadied  the  telescope  against  the  porch  post. 
We  took  turns  looking  through  the  telescope  they 
had  for  watching  the  cattle  and  for  prairie  fires; 
sometimes  we  would  see  them  and  sometimes  we 
wouldn't.  They  would  be  there  and  then  they 

109 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

would  disappear,  because  they  would  go  down  in  a 
swale  or  buffalo  wallow.  The  heat  was  still  going 
up  like  somebody  waving  a  veil,  and  once  in  a  while 
two  things  away  off  in  the  distance  would  open  and 
shut  and  then  be  gone.  It  would  be  a  couple  of 
coyotes.  And  then  a  buzzard  that  had  been  hanging 
up  in  the  sky  would  begin  going  around  and  around, 
and  then  two  or  three  more  buzzards  would  come 
sailing  in,  their  long  scaly  necks  getting  plainer — 
and  we  knew  what  that  meant.  Some  calf  had  got 
down. 

Then  pretty  soon  the  speck  appeared  on  Squaw 
Divide  and  we  could  see  the  horses  with  their  heads 
up  coming  along  pretty  lively,  because  they  were 
getting  in  sight  of  home. 

But  as  they  came  nearer  we  began  to  see  that 
something  was  wrong. 

"They're  not  sitting  very  close  together,"  said 
Bush  Millman,  shading  his  eyes. 

"She  certainly  'ain't  got  her  head  snuggled  up  on 
his  shoulder,"  said  Al  Gurney.  "I  guess  she  'ain't 
as  tired  as  we  thought." 

"Look  at  that,"  said  Bush.  "Dog  my  cats  if 
she  don't  set  up  in  the  seat  about  as  high  as  he 
does.  She's  certainly  powerful  big  for  a  child  of 
her  age." 

"I  tell  you  it  'ain't  any  child,"  said  Al—  "its"  a 
lady!" 

As  the  buckboard  turned  up  off  the  trail  we  saw 
that  he  was  right.  It  was  a  good-looking  lady  sitting 
there,  calm  and  comfortable.  But  Slim  wasn't. 
He  was  crowded  over  against  the  side  irons  of  the 

no 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

seat  with  his  head  hanging  down  as  if  he  hadn't 
anything  to  live  for.  One  foot  was  outside,  so  when 
the  horses  stopped  he  could  jump  and  run. 

"Good  evening,  everybody,"  said  the  lady,  smiling 
and  waving  a  hand.  It  wasn't  just  an  ordinary 
hand  with  warts  on  it,  but  a  fine  delicate  one  with 
gloves  on  it.  "And  so  this  is  the  C  Q.  I'm  Miss 
Hazleton." 

Putting  her  foot  on  the  steps  she  leaped  out, 
because  she  was  pretty  limber.  But  she  didn't  beat 
Slim  much.  She  hadn't  any  more  than  touched  the 
ground  than  Slim  was  throwing  her  things  out. 

The  other  men  lined  up  along  the  cinder  walk, 
batting  their  eyes  and  stretching  their  necks.  And 
then  as  she  went  by  bowing  and  smiling  they  pulled 
off  their  hats  and  stood  there  holding  them  as  if 
the  lodge  was  burying  somebody. 

"Weren't  you  expecting  me?" 

"Y-yes,"  said  Al  Gurney,  "but  not  quite  so  big. 
Your  pa  showed  me  your  picture,  but  you  didn't 
look  so  big  in  that.  You  must  'a'  done  some  growing 
lately." 

"That  was  my  baby  picture." 

Dashing  on  ahead  Bush  Millman  opened  the  door 
and  when  she  had  passed  through  he  shut  it  and 
rubbed  his  hands  together  as  if  he  had  turned  a 
double  handspring  or  something.  Then  he  tiptoed 
off  the  porch,  stepping  as  high  as  a  string-halted 
Percheron. 

"Did  you  have  a  pleasant  ride?"  asked  Mrs. 
Harbaugh  as  she  set  out  a  chair  for  the  lady. 

The  lady  laughed.    "Well,  I  shouldn't  exactly 
in 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

say  that.  The  man  you  sent  wasn't  altogether 
communicative.  He  sat  over  on  his  edge  of  the  seat 
as  if  he  thought  I  was  going  to  bite  him.  It's  quite 
an  experience  riding  all  day  over  the  prairies  with 
only  one  human  being  in  sight  and  him  never  saying 
a  word.  One  time  I  thought  he  was  going  to  talk 
to  me.  His  lips  began  to  move  and  his  Adam's 
apple  to  bob  up  and  down,  but  all  he  said  was,  'You 
can  drink  out  of  one  jug  and  I'll  drink  out  of  the 
other.'  Outside  of  that,  I  believe  the  conversation 
was  limited  to  what  I  chose  to  volunteer." 

Slim  was  out  bedding  down  the  horses.  When 
they  wouldn't  stand  over  he  would  give  them  a 
thump  in  the  ribs. 

"Stand  over  there,  you  old  crawfish.  I  suppose 
you'll  be  wanting  to  talk  about  the  scenery  next." 

Putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket  he  pulled  out 
something.  "There's  that  old  vinegar  candy,"  he 
said,  and  threw  it  on  the  ground. 

When  he  came  up  to  the  cook  shanty  he  went 
around  by  the  hog-ringing  chute  and  the  dipping 
tank.  Pulling  off  his  handkerchief  he  washed  up  at 
the  trough  and  when  Duff  leaped  up  he  pushed  him 
back.  "Get  down.  Can't  you  see  I  got  my  good 
clothes  on? 

"Dang  it,"  he  said  after  supper,  "that's  just  my 
luck.  I  come  away  out  here  to  get  away  from  'em 
and  I  have  to  set  alongside  one  for  twelve  hours.  I 
thought  I'd  never  live  through  the  day — gabble, 
gabble,  gabble.  But  I  didn't  give  her  much  en- 
couragement. I  just  set  there  and  thought  how 
much  I  hated  'em." 

112 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Then  he  smoked,  blowing  it  out  in  long,  thoughtful 
puffs. 

"There  ain't  but  one  thing  left,"  he  said  at  last. 

"What's  that?"  I  asked. 

"We  got  to  move  on." 

With  that  he  called  Duff  over  and  put  his  arm 
around  him. 


CHAPTER  X 

It's  pretty  tough  since  the  lady  came,  but  everybody  must  expect  some 
trouble.  Bun  Wah  likes  her,  but  that  is  because  he  has  never 
suffered.  Slim  and  I  go  out  on  the  range  where  there  is  nothing  but 
coyotes  and  cattle.  Now  we  can  be  happy. 

SLIM  danged  it  a  good  deal  the  next  few  days. 
"One  sure  thing,  we  ought  to  move  on,"  he 
said,  "but  dang  it  I  don't  feel  like  slipping  out  when 
Mr.  Harbaugh  ain't  here  and  not  givin'  him  any 
notice,  and  all  the  time  I  got  to  be  dodging  that 
woman.  I  don't  see  why  fate  has  got  to  hound  me 
this  way.  All  was  going  quiet  and  peaceful  here  and 
no  woman  in  forty  miles  and  then  I  had  to  go  and 
spoil  it.  That's  the  humiliating  part  of  it,  Turkey 
— I  had  to  bring  her  in  myself"  Slim  shook  his  head 
and  looked  pretty  solemn. 

But  the  rest  of  the  men  didn't.  They  began  to 
stay  around  the  house,  and  when  they  would  pitch 
horseshoes  and  get  into  an  argument  and  have  to 
holler  at  each  other  they  would  stand  facing  her 
window.  They  would  be  laughing  and  talking  and 
having  a  good  time  till  she'd  come  out  for  a  walk, 
and  then  they'd  freeze.  Their  backs  would  get  as 
stiff  as  ramrods  and  they'd  go  along  taking  short, 
careful  steps  as  if  they  were  going  down  the  aisle  at 
church,  and  when  they'd  think  of  something  to  say 

114 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

they'd  have  to  clear  their  throats  and  swallow  a 
couple  of  times  before  they  could  get  it  out. 

They  were  all  that  way  except  Slim.  He  could 
swallow  all  right.  The  rest  of  them  would  say, ' '  Yes, 
ma'am,"  and  "No,  ma'am,"  and  "Please,  lady,"  but 
not  Slim.  He  said  what  he  thought. 

"Oh,  what  a  wonderful  country!"  she  said  one 
morning.  "I  never  knew  before  what  a  big  world 
it  is.  It's  just  land,  land,  land  everywhere.  You 
get  to  what  you  think  is  the  end  of  it  and  there's 
more  of  it  rolling  away  off,  you  don't  know  where. 
Off  a  little  ways  it  looks  smooth  and  level,  but  when 
you  get  there  it's  made  up  of  little  hills  and  hollows 
and  bushes  and  stunted  trees  and  those  cunning 
prairie-dogs  scooting  in  and  out  of  their  holes — " 

"You  wouldn't  call  them  cute  if  your  pony  stepped 
in  one  of  them  once,"  said  Slim. 

She  came  to  where  we  were  dipping  sheep  and 
stood  there  watching  us  drive  them  up  the  chute 
and  on  to  the  platform  so  that  they  would  fall  into 
the  dipping  tank.  She  turned  to  Slim  with  her  voice 
kind  of  choked  up.  "The  poor  things !  How 
would  you  like  to  be  treated  that  way  by  some 
human  being?" 

"I  was,"  said  Slim,  and  went  on  pulling  the 
trap-door. 

The  other  men  would  follow  her  around  trying  to 
think  of  something  to  say,  but  they  didn't  interest 
her.  She'd  smile  and  be  polite,  but  pretty  soon  her 
eyes  would  swing  around  to  Slim.  The  less  atten- 
tion she  paid  to  the  other  men  the  more  they  tried 
to  do  for  her. 

"S 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

•'Couldn't  we  get  up  a  dance  for  her  or  some- 
thing?" said  Al  Gurney.  "I  used  to  be  pretty 
light  on  my  feet." 

"You  might  'a'  been  light  on  yourn,"  said  Bush, 
"but  what  about  the  lady?  I  guess  she'd  like  to 
learn  how  to  shoot.  I  always  been  a  pretty  good 
shot." 

Al  began  to  gentle  up  one  of  the  ponies  for  her, 
so  Bush  began  carrying  over  boards  from  an  old 
hog-pen. 

"What  are  you  doing  there,  Bush?"  asked  Mrs. 
Harbaugh. 

"Making  the  lady  a  horseblock.  She  ain't  used 
to  hopping  these  cayuses." 

But  she  didn't  need  it.  She  was  as  limber  as  a 
fishing-pole. 

One  evening  when  Slim  came  in  he  found  Al 
Gurney  and  the  rest  of  the  boys  out  behind  the 
bunkhouse,  shaving,  and  not  doing  any  cussing  when 
they  cut  themselves. 

"What's  going  on?"  said  Slim.  "Somebody  got 
abet  up?" 

"We're  getting  ready  for  supper,"  said  Al  Gurney. 

"Goin*  to  have  something  extry?" 

"We  sure  are." 

"It  must  be  something  pretty  nice  to  stir  you 
crooks  up  that  way,"  said  Slim,  getting  jovial,  too. 

"That's  the  way  you  spell  it,"  said  Al  Gurney, 
turning  the  towel  along  the  roller  till  he  found  a 
clean  place.  "Bun  Wah's  fixed  it  up  for  us." 

"Well,  I  guess  I  got  to  get  in  on  this,  too,"  said 
Slim.  "Where's  my  old  razoo?" 

116 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  called  it  that  to  be  funny,  because  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  pretty  good.  It  wasn't  often 
Bun  Wah  changed  his  cooking.  Usually  it  was 
just  the  same  potatoes  and  rice  and  sowbelly. 
Slim  went  on  scraping  his  face  and  singing  "Balti- 
more Gal"  when  he  wasn't  working  on  his  windpipe. 

"Don't  tell  me  what  it  is,"  said  Slim.  "I  jes' 
want  to  speculate." 

Slim  let  on  as  if  he  was  going  to  throw  his  water 
on  some  one,  and  then  laughed  when  they  jumped, 
and  then  went  back  to  singing  "Baltimore  Gal"  till 
the  door  at  the  Harbaugh  house  opened.  The  men 
quit  laughing  and  joking  and  ramrods  went  down 
their  backs. 

"What's  that?"  said  Slim,  getting  suspicious. 

* '  Velly  nice  ladee, ' '  sai4  Bun  Wah,  proudly.  ' '  She 
come  eat  piecee  Bun  Wah  cook  velly  well." 

The  lady  was  coming  toward  the  cook  shack 
where  Slade  and  Al  and  Bush  Millman  were  holding 
open  the  door. 

Slim  kicked  his  pan  over.  "Dang  it,  why  didn't 
you  tell  me  it  was  that  blame  woman?" 

"Mees  Sleem  no  askee,"  said  Bun  Wah.  "Bun 
Wah  t'ink  velly  nice  ladee." 

"I  ain't  going  in  there,"  said  Slim,  "danged  if 
I  am.  You  can  tell  'em  I  got  the  bellyache — I'm 
going  to  the  barn." 

With  that  Slim  flopped  off  to  the  barn,  wiping  the 
lather  out  of  his  ears.  Bun  Wah  gazed  after  him 
astonished,  because  he  was  proud  of  his  cooking. 

Around  the  table  Bun  Wah  glided  in  his  straw 
slippers,  dishing  out  things. 
9  "7 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Where  is  Mr.  Belcher?"  asked  the  lady  at  last. 

' '  Him  velly  seeck, ' '  said  Bun  Wah.  ' '  Him  catchee 
bellyache.  Him  go  cow-barn — mebbe  die." 

Miss  Hazleton  put  down  her  knife  and  fork. 
' '  The  poor  man.  I  thought  he  looked  pale  this  morn- 
ing. I  must  take  him  out  something  warm,  Bun  Wah. 
My  father  is  troubled  with  indigestion,  too." 

When  she  finished  she  took  the  tray  and  went 
hurrying  out  to  the  barn.  Slim  was  up  in  the  mow, 
lying  on  a  pile  of  hay  with  one  knee  propped  up  on  the 
other. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Belcher!"  she  called. 

Slim  rose  up.     "What  is  it,  Mrs.  Harbaugh?" 

"Where  are  you?  I've  brought  you  something  to 
eat." 

"Here." 

Slim  came  down,  his  feet  showing,  and  then  his 
knees,  and  then  he  saw  who  it  was.  He  stood  there 
on  the  ladder,  swallowing. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  suffering,  Mr.  Belcher."  She 
looked  up  at  him  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"I'm  sufferin'  some,"  said  Slim,  "but  there  ain't 
anything  you  can  do.  Just  set  the  grub  down  there 
on  the  half -bushel  and  I'll  get  it  when  you  go  back." 

He  waited  till  she  got  back  to  the  house  before  he 
came  on  down. 

"A  fellow  ain't  safe  even  in  the  barn.  Dang  it," 
he  said,>and  gave  the  half -bushel  a  kick,  "I  got  to 
do  something." 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Slim  one  morning  as  we  were 
saddling  our  ponies  to  go  out  on  the  range,  "there's 
some  satisfaction  in  being  able  to  get  off  by  your- 

118 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

self.  I'm  glad  we  got  a  couple  of  days  with  the 
cattle.  Women  are  all  alike.  They  may  dress  a 
little  different  and  talk  a  little  different,  but  you 
skin  'em  and  they're  all  the  same.  I'm  through 
with  'em." 

"So'm  I,"  I  said,  and  we  shook  hands  because  we 
understood  each  other. 

Packing  our  biscuits  and  swinging  our  water-cans 
we  headed  out  across  the  range,  Slim  sitting  on 
Calico  as  light  as  fuzz  on  a  thistle.  He  guided  him 
with  his  knees,  because  he  was  a  good  rider,  but  it 
wasn't  so  easy  with  me.  Too  much  of  my  traveling 
was  up  and  down. 

As  soon  as  we  got  away  from  the  house  Slim  began 
to  chirp  up  and  when  we  got  with  the  cattle  he  began 
to  be  his  old  self  again,  once  in  a  while  beating  a  tune 
on  his  saddle-horn  with  his  knuckles  and  singing 
"Baltimore  Gal."  Slim  could  run  his  eye  over  the 
cattle  and  read  them  like  a  book. 

"I  see  they  been  gettin'  too  much  alkali  grass," 
he  would  say.  "We  got  to  shift  them  down 
the  valley  where  there's  some  Johnson.  Always 
water  them  in  the  evening.  Head  them  in  to  a 
water-hole  and  they'll  fill  up  and  lay  down  and  go 
to  sleep  instead  of  wandering  around  and  running 
all  their  flesh  off." 

All  day  we  rode  along  the  ridges  watching  the 
cattle,  and  when  Slim  would  see  a  calf  trotting  with 
its  mother  without  a  brand  on  it  he  would  gather 
greasewood  till  there  was  enough  for  a  pile,  then 
ride  back  to  the  calf  and  uncoil  his  lariat.  It  would 
go  turning  and  writhing  through  the  air  as  if  it  was 

119 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

alive  and  drop  over  the  calf's  neck  as  neat  as  a 
necktie.  Calico  would  look  to  see  if  it  was  a  steer 
so  that  he  could  plant  his  feet  and  set  back,  but  if  it 
was  just  a  calf  he  would  let  the  kink  out  of  his  back 
and  wait  for  Slim  to  lean  on  the  side  he  wanted  to  go. 
Then  Slim  would  trot  away  with  the  calf  plowing  its 
feet  in  the  ground.  The  calf's  mother  would  come 
bellowing  behind,  while  the  steers  raised  their  heads 
and  snorted. 

When  we  got  to  the  greasewood  pile  Slim  would 
slide  off  and  drop  the  reins  so  Calico  would  stand. 
Then  he  would  rip  a  match  across  the  seat  of  his 
pants,  stick  it  to  the  dried  grass  and  in  a  minute  the 
greasewood  would  be  afire.  Taking  out  his  brand- 
ing-iron he  would  prop  the  handle  up  on  the  cross 
sticks  while  I  had  to  keep  the  cow  from  charging  in. 

"She's  getting  hot  now,"  Slim  would  say,  and  flop- 
ping the  calf  over  on  its  side  he  would  slap  on  the 
iron.  The  hair  would  sizzle,  then  curl,  and  go  up  in 
a  fine  gray  smoke,  while  the  calf  tried  to  kick.  It 
would  bawl  and  the  cow  would  come  bellowing  in 
with  her  head  down  and  I  would  have  to  swing  my 
blacksnake.  Then  she  would  stand  there  striking 
the  ground  with  her  hoof. 

"All  hunky-dory,"  Slim  would  say  and  give  the 
rope  a  throw.  The  calf  would  be  free.  It  would 
stand  there  trembling,  not  knowing  what  to  do,  and 
then  it  would  start  to  run,  stumbling  along  on  its 
legs,  because  they  had  been  twisted  and  it  wasn't 
sure  of  them.  Away  it  would  start  and  the  mother 
after  it,  giving  a  glad  moo  because  her  calf  was  still 
alive.  Then  it  would  run  up  under  her  side  trying 

120 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

to  rub  the  place.  The  mother  would  put  out  her 
tongue  and  lick  the  spot,x  stopping  to  give  some  short 
smothered  moos  because  she  wouldn't  take  time  to 
lift  her  nose.  And  then  pretty  soon  they  would  go 
galloping  back  to  the  herd. 

We  stayed  out  on  the  range  all  night,  taking  the 
saddles  off  and  staking  the  horses  out.  Putting  the 
saddles  under  our  heads  for  pillows  we  rolled  up  in 
our  blankets.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  with  the 
greasewoods  stirring  and  the  coyotes  lifting  up  their 
voices,  I  began  to  get  uneasy.  But  Slim  didn't.  The 
wind  threshing  through  the  greasewoods  didn't 
bother  him.  A  coyote  could  have  stood  on  his 
stomach  and  he  wouldn't  have  known  it,  but  let  the 
cattle  get  uneasy  and  begin  tramping  around  and 
he'd  be  sitting  up  in  a  second.  It  was  the  other  way 
around  with  me.  I  wouldn't  notice  the  cattle,  but 
let  a  coyote  come  sniffing  around  and  I  would  be 
wide  awake.  It's  strange  how  people  differ. 

Lying  out  there  under  that  greasewood  bush  I 
would  look  up  at  the  stars  and  there  didn't  seem  to 
be  any  end  to  them.  And  then  I  would  think  how 
maybe  they  all  had  people  on  them  and  some  of  the 
worlds  were  a  hundred  times  bigger  than  ours  and 
I  would  begin  to  feel  mighty  small.  It's  queer 
how  I  change  my  opinion  about  myself.  Sometimes 
when  I  see  how  much  smarter  I  am  than  other 
people  I  begin  to  feel  pretty  big,  but  now  I  didn't 
feel  any  bigger  than  a  gnat's  heel.  It's  funny  how 
sometimes  you  feel  as  if  there  wasn't  anybody  who 
knew  as  much  as  you  do,  and  then  sometimes  you 
feel  as  if  you  weren't  worth  hanging  up  to  dry.  I 

121 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

would  lie  there  and  look  up  at  the  stars  and  think. 
I  was  getting  to  be  quite  a  thinker.  I  was  glad  I 
wasn't  like  Hoot  Howden.  The  only  time  he  ever 
thought  was  when  it  was  time  to  eat. 

When  I  woke  up  Slim  had  a  fire  going,  the  coffee 
boiling  and  was  singing  "Baltimore  Gal." 

"We'll  ease  the  cattle  up  the  valley  a  little,"  said 
Slim.  "They've  pretty  well  cleaned  out  this  terri- 
tory around  here." 

We  did,  keeping  to  the  ridges  so  that  we  could  see 
them,  once  in  a  while  coming  on  a  white  buffalo 
skull  where  some  buffalo  had  given  up  the  ghost  or 
had  been  killed  by  an  Indian.  Maybe  ten  rods 
away  we  would  find  a  rib  where  some  coyote  had 
carried  it,  and  once  in  a  while  where  a  rattlesnake 
had  changed  its  skin.  The  wind  would  blow  it  up 
against  some  scrub  brush  and  rustle  it,  and  just  as 
it  would  think  that  it  was  settled  down  for  good  the 
wind  would  flop  it  back  again  and  keep  doing  this 
till  it  was  frayed  and  worn  out  or  the  ants  had 
eaten  it  up. 

The  cattle  would  rest  their  necks  across  each 
other  and  look  at  us,  their  long  horns  gleaming,  and 
when  they  would  throw  their  heads  their  horns 
would  click  together.  Some  of  their  noses  would 
be  white  and  some  of  them  would  be  red,  and  when 
we  came  too  close  their  nostrils  would  begin  to  open. 

"What's  that?"  said  Slim,  suddenly,  and  I  looked, 
but  it  wasn't  anything  special,  as  far  as  I  could  see. 
It  was  just  a  short  yearling  trotting  along  with  his 
head  in  the  air  and  his  tail  sticking  out  behind  trying 
to  show  off. 

122 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  touched  Calico  and  dashed  up  alongside  to 
look  at  the  brand.  Instead  of  a  C  Q  it  was  a  double 
X,  which  wasn't  surprising,  because  sometimes  cattle 
would  stray  in  from  another  herd. 

"That  looks  to  me  like  a  blotched  brand,"  said 
Slim,  leaning  over  on  that  stirrup.  "Dang  it,  it  is 
a  blotched  brand." 

Blotching  was  when  somebody  was  trying  to  steal 
a  calf.  If  the  owner's  brand  didn't  look  too  plain 
some  other  person  would  come  along  and  put  his 
brand  on  top  of  it.  Then  it  would  be  pretty  hard 
to  tell. 

"You  can  eat  my  hat  if  that  ain't  a  blotcher," 
said  Slim.  "By  whoopy,  I  think  I'll  just  take  a 
good  look." 

With  that  his  lariat  went  writhing  and  twisting 
through  the  air  and,  reaching  out  as  if  it  knew  where 
it  was  going,  settled  down  over  the  calf's  neck  as 
neat  as  a  necktie.  Slim  was  a  good  roper.  Calico 
bowed  up  his  back  like  a  cat  and  when  the  rope 
tightened  the  calf  began  to  bellow.  Loosening  up 
the  rope  Slim  gave  it  a  hitch  and  had  the  calf  by  the 
leg.  Then  he  hog-tied  him,  the  calf's  white  eyes 
showing  and  his  nose  running. 

Slim  bent  over  the  brand.  "If  there  ain't  a 
double  brand  there  you  can  hit  me  with  a  handspike. 
I'm  just  going  to  see,  because  if  there  is  it's  pretty 
serious  business.  I  been  thinking  there  was  some 
funny  business  going  on  in  this  valley.  We  got  to 
move  the  cattle,  because  if  they  smell  blood  they'll 
go  wild." 

We  started  the  cattle  over  the  slope  and  then 

123 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

came  back.  Slim  tightened  his  reins  and  his  hand 
went  to  his  hip.  The  calf  lunged  at  the  rope,  kicked 
a  few  times,  then  stopped.  Then  we  skinned  it, 
Slim  cutting  out  a  part  of  the  pelt,  where  the  brand 
was,  as  big  as  the  bottom  of  a  dishpan.  "Look  at 
that — on  the  inner  skin.  It  shows  on  that  sensitive 
part  where  the  first  iron  touched  it.  What  do  you 
see?" 

Bending  over  I  looked  and  there  on  the  soft  inner 
skin,  as  if  somebody  had  marked  it  on  with  a  fine, 
indelible  pencil,  was  our  brand — C  Q. 

"I  guess  we've  started  something  all  right — 
when  Mr.  Harbaugh  sees  this." 

Slim  tied  it  on  behind  his  saddle.  "We'd  better 
mosey  on  now.  As  soon  as  we  can  we'll  take  it  back 
to  the  ranch." 

All  day  we  followed  the  cattle,  Slim  sitting  on 
Calico,  sometimes  turned  sideways  in  the  saddle, 
his  chin  resting  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  looking 
thoughtful.  We  slept  on  the  ground  again,  staking 
out  the  horses.  The  wind  twisting  the  greasewoods 
around  didn't  wake  me.  I  guess  it  could  have  pulled 
one  of  them  up  by  the  roots  and  I  wouldn't  have 
known  it.  When  I  awoke  my  neck  was  about  broke. 
A  saddle  is  better  than  nothing,  but  it  isn't  a  pillow. 

"Le's  have  a  game  of  cards,"  I  said  that  afternoon, 
and  we  got  off  and  dropped  our  reins.  It  was  an 
old  buffalo-wallow  where  thousands  of  buffalo  had 
come  to  roll  and  throw  dirt  to  keep  the  flies  off,  till 
they  had  made  a  long,  deep  hole.  How  things 
change !  Here  buffalo  used  to  come  to  paw  and  toss 
their  heads  and  were  kings  of  the  earth — and  now 

124 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

here  I  was  sitting  there  with  my  legs  crossed  and 
playing  cards  as  unconcerned  as  a  woodtick. 

I  was  getting  to  be  a  good  card-player.  It 
wouldn't  be  long  till  I  would  be  betting  and  gam- 
bling. I  would  show  her  who  I  was.  Let  her  throw 
water  on  me  if  she  wanted  to.  My  day  was  coming. 

I  was  just  about  to  take  a  trick  when  Slim  stopped 
and  turned  his  head  sideways — the  way  he  did 
when  he  was  listening.  Then  he  put  his  ear  to  the 
ground.  "There's  something  disturbing  the  cattle," 
he  said. 

As  far  as  the  eye  could  see  were  the  cattle,  over 
the  hills  and  down  in  the  hollows,  eating  and  throwing 
their  heads,  their  horns  flashing.  Out  on  the  edge 
some  of  them  were  circling  around.  Moo  one  of 
them  went,  and  then  in  another  part  of  the  herd 
three  or  four  answered. 

"They're  working  off  down  the  slope,"  said  Slim. 
"Something's  wrong." 

The  leaders  began  to  turn  arouna  in  a  circle. 
"Look  at  that,"  exclaimed  Slim.  "Something's 
started  them  milling." 

The  cattle  were  beginning  to  go  faster,  turning 
around  in  a  big  circle,  more  of  them  beginning  to 
low,  running  with  their  heads  down.  "We've  got 
to  stop  them,"  said  Slim.  "They'll  be  killing  each 
other." 

Faster  and  faster  the  cattle  went,  the  ground 
beginning  to  shake  under  their  feet.  They  began 
throwing  themselves  against  each  other,  their  horns 
clanking.  Calico  blew  through  his  nose  and  pointed 
his  ears  forward.  Off  Slim  dashed.  Taking  off  his 

125 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

hat  he  waved  it  in  the  faces  of  the  cattle,  but  they 
came  on.  The  leaders  tried  to  stop,  but  the  cattle 
behind  pushed  them  on.  On  they  came,  a  cloud  of 
dust  flying  and  the  valley  rumbling.  Slim's  pistol 
popped  and  one  of  the  leaders  rolled  over,  but  the 
others  only  parted  around  him  and  came  on. 

Slim  came  circling  back  and  cupped  his  hands. 
"The  Indians  have  started  them — so  as  to  get  the 
calves. ' '  And  then  as  we  looked  an  Indian  on  a  pony 
showed  through  the  dust,  waving  his  blanket.  He 
was  stampeding  the  cattle.  The  calves  that  were 
run  over  would  be  his  meat. 

Slim's  hand  went  to  his  hip  and  away  he  flew,  but 
the  cattle  spread  and  he  was  cut  off.  The  blanket 
suddenly  stopped  waving  and  the  Indian  flattened 
out  on  his  pony's  back.  He  had  escaped,  but  the 
cattle  were  coming  on.  The  roar  of  their  feet  grew 
louder  and  louder. 

Suddenly  Slim  lifted  himself  in  his  stirrups  and 
shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  There  in  front  of 
the  galloping  cattle  was  a  white  figure  on  horseback. 
The  rider  had  not  seen  the  milling  cattle  until  it 
was  too  late.  They  were  now  coming  down  the 
hill.  The  rider  turned  the  pony,  but  the  cattle 
were  coming  behind.  Then  the  pony  stumbled  and 
fell,  the  rider  pitching  over  the  animal's  head. 

"Stepped  in  a  prairie-dog  hole,"  said  Slim.  "If 
we  don't  turn  them  he'll  be  ground  to  mincemeat." 

Guiding  Calico  with  his  knee  he  dashed  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  fallen  rider,  weaving  in  and  out 
among  the  cattle.  The  fallen  pony  lay  on  the 
ground,  its  leg  broken.  It  would  have  to  be  killed. 

126 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

The  rider  sat  up,  looking  around  in  a  dazed  way. 
The  cattle  came  on. 

A  white  puff  of  smoke  leaped  from  Slim's  revolver 
and  the  pony  stopped  struggling.  The  cattle  could 
now  pass  over  it  without  making  it  suffer  any  more. 
He  touched  the  rowel  and  in  a  couple  of  jumps  Calico 
was  by  the  fallen  rider.  Over  Slim  bent  with  one 
hand  on  the  saddle-horn  and  the  person  was  lifted 
from  the  ground.  Turning  he  came  galloping  back 
while  the  cattle  rushed  over  the  dead  pony,  piling 
up  and  breaking  their  legs  and  gouging  each  other 
with  their  long  horns. 

Toward  me  Slim  came,  looking  down  at  the  figure 
in  his  arms  kind  of  astonished,  and  when  he  got  up 
close  I  saw  it  wasn't  any  of  the  cow-punchers.  It 
was  the  lady,  Miss  Hazleton. 

"I'm  trembly  and  weak,  but  I'm  not  seriously 
hurt,"  she  was  saying  as  he  came  up. 

Slim  let  her  down  to  her  feet  and  worked  her  arms 
to  see  that  they  were  all  right.  Out  of  her  pocket 
came  a  little  white  handkerchief  and  turning  her 
back  she  began  cleaning  up  her  face.  Then  she 
turned  to  Slim. 

"I  can  see  them  coming  yet — the  whites  of  their 
eyes  gleaming  and  their  horns  clanking.  Then  my 
pony  stepped  in  one  of  those  prairie-dog  holes — " 

"I  guess  you  don't  think  so  much  of  them  now," 
said  Slim,  wiping  the  foam  off  Calico. 

The  lady  looked  at  him  kind  of  admiringly  and 
swallowed.  "Oh,  Mr.  Belcher!  You  saved  my 
life  and  it  was  heroic  of  you.  I  don't  know  how  I 
can  ever  thank  you — " 

127 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"You  don't  have  to.  I  didn't  know  it  was  you 
till  I  got  up  to  you." 

"When  your  big  strong  arm  picked  me  up  I  felt 
as  safe  as  a  child.  I  would  be  lying  dead  out  there 
now,  Mr.  Belcher,  if  it  wasn't  for  you — all  horribly 
mangled!" 

"It  wasn't  anything.  I'd  done  it  for  anybody. 
You  ought  to  had  more  sense  than  to  try  to  head  in 
in  front  of  them  that  way." 

Slim  and  I  started  after  her  saddle  and  bridle, 
Slim's  long  legs  reaching  out  and  his  arms  flopping 
by  his  sides. 

He  was  looking  pretty  gloomy.  "Dang  it,"  he 
said,  "and  now  I  got  to  go  and  save  her  life !  If  that 
ain't  just  my  luck!" 

He  looked  pretty  sad  and  discouraged,  and  gave  a 
buffalo  horn  a  kick. 


CHAPTER  XI 

When  you  save  a  lady's  life  you've  got  to  be  careful,  because  you  never 
know  how  she's  going  to  take  it.  But  no  difference  how  she  takes  it 
you're  going  to  wish  you  hadn't.  I've  found  that  out. 

WHEN  Slade  got  there  to  relieve  us  we  started 
back,  but  Slim  didn't  like  it  any  too  well, 
because  the  lady  had  to  sit  on  Calico  with  him.  He 
had  to  put  one  arm  around  her,  but  he  didn't  get 
any  fun  out  of  it,  because  he  held  her  too  much  like  a 
molasses  jug. 

I  never  saw  a  man  look  more  discouraged  than 
Slim  did,  sitting  there  holding  the  reins  with  one 
hand  and  the  lady  with  the  other.  He  looked  as  if 
there  wasn't  anything  worth  living  for,  because  he 
was  trying  to  get  away  from  them,  and  now  he  had 
to  ride  half  a  day  with  his  arm  around  one. 

Slim  and  I  both  thought  the  same  way  about  them. 
There  wasn't  anything  to  them.  They  didn't  mean 
anything  but  trouble  and  disappointment. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Harbaugh,"  said  the  lady,  "Mr. 
Belcher  has  saved  my  life.  He  has  been  a  perfect 
hero.  The  cattle  were  stampeding  and  I  was  trying 
to  get  away  from  them  when  my  pony  broke  its 
leg  and  pitched  me  over  its  head.  I  can  see  the 
cattle  now — their  heads  down.  ...  It  makes  me 
shiver  to  think  of  it." 

129 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Well,  don't  do  it,"  said  Slim.  "It  wasn't  any- 
thing. I'd  done  the  same  for  a  goat." 

Then  he  went  off  to  the  barn  and  played  solitaire, 
slapping  the  cards  down  on  the  half-bushel  till  they 
cracked. 

"I  think  we  ought  to  get  up  a  dance  for  Miss 
Hazleton,"  said  Bush  Millman. 

"I  do,  too,"  said  Al  Gurney.  "We  ought  to  show 
the  lady  a  little  fun." 

Mrs.  Harbaugh  said  she  would  be  pleased  to  co- 
operate, and  then  they  all  began  to  get  excited, 
because  a  dance  was  the  biggest  thing  there  could 
be.  "We  could  get  Lone  Swanson  to  play  for  us. 
He  lives  over  on  the  divide  by  himself  and  is  the 
best  player  on  the  range,"  said  Bush  Millman. 

When  Mr.  Hazleton  arrived  his  daughter  was 
excited  and  had  to  tell  him  all  over  again.  Mr. 
Hazleton  patted  her  and  looked  at  Slim,  who  was 
turning  his  hat  around  and  around.  Out  on  the 
plains  with  me  Slim  could  find  plenty  to  talk  about, 
but  when  ladies  were  around  or  anybody  called  him 
a  hero  he  couldn't  think  of  much  to  say. 

Mr.  Hazleton  had  a  gold  watch-chain  and  a  long- 
tailed  coat.  He  was  rich  and  could  go  into  a  store 
and  buy  anything  he  wanted.  It  didn't  make  any 
difference  to  him  whether  anything  was  straight  or 
two  for  a  nickel.  He  would  buy  it  just  the  same,  and 
if  it  got  stuck  to  the  bottom  of  the  sack  he  would 
throw  it  away  and  never  give  it  another  thought. 

"I  don't  know  what  I'll  do  for  you,"  said  Mr. 
Hazleton,  looking  at  Slim.  ' ' She's  the  most  precious 
bit  of  property  I've  got  in  the  world." 

130 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"You  don't  have  to  do  anything  for  me,"  said 
Slim — •  "except  if  you  got  a  cigar  I  wouldn't  mind 
smoking  It." 

"A  cigar!    Well,  I  think  I  have!" 

He  came  back  with  a  boxful.  Slim  took  them 
and  went  off  in  a  daze,  his  back  stiff  and  his  long 
legs  flopping  out,  looking  as  if  he  had  saved  Ouster's 
army.  He  began  to  look  as  if  he  was  glad  he  had 
done  it. 

One  day  when  he  came  in  he  found  Bush  Millman 
down  in  the  draw  teaching  the  lady  how  to  shoot. 
They  had  a  bottle  on  an  old  corral  post  and  Bush 
was  trying  to  keep  her  from  shutting  both  eyes  when 
she  pulled  the  trigger.  She  had  her  collar  open 
and  some  of  her  hair  was  flying  loose,  and  once  in  a 
while  some  of  it  would  blow  across  his  face. 

"Shucks,  lady,"  Bush  was  saying,   "you  don't 

have  to  shut  your  eyes  to  shoot  a  gun.    You  couldn't 

hit  a  flock  of  barns  that  way.    Now  let  me  show 

you.    It's  as  easy  as  falling  off  a  log.    Now  I'll 

.steady  the  barrel  for  you.    Let  'er  go." 

The  gun  leaped  up  and  a  spurt  of  white  smoke 
popped  out. 

"Did  I  hit  it?"  asked  the  lady,  excited. 

"Hit  it!"  laughed  Bush.  "You  mighty  nigh 
got  that  sheep  over  there,  but  I  reckon  the  bottle 
didn't  know  nothing  about  it." 

"She'll  never  hit  anything  learning  that  way," 
said  Slim.  "Bush  ain't  no  shot,  anyway." 

Slim  turned  and  rode  away.  He  didn't  think 
much  of  Bush's  way  of  teaching  the  lady  how  to 
shoot. 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

After  supper  that  evening  Slim  stopped  by  the 
Harbaugh  porch.  "If  you  want  to  learn  anything 
about  shooting,  lady,  I'd  be  pleased  to  show  you.  I 
always  been  considered  pretty  good  in  that  line." 

"No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Belcher.  Mr.  Millman  is 
doing  very  well.  He's  to  give  me  a  lesson  a  day  till 
I  learn." 

Slim  went  off  mumbling.  "I  hate  to  see  a  person 
spoiled  that  way.  It's  a  durn  shame." 

But  if  the  lady  thought  she  was  being  spoiled  she 
didn't  let  on.  Instead  she  sort  of  enjoyed  it. 

He  came  in  the  next  evening  looking  pretty  dis- 
gusted. "What  do  you  reckon  I  saw  as  I  was 
coming  in?" 

"I  don't  know — maybe  an  elephant,"  I  said,  be- 
cause I  was  feeling  pretty  good. 

"It  might  just  as  well  have  been.  It  was  Mill- 
man showing  her  how  to  shoot  coyotes  and  there 
wasn't  one  in  two  miles.  I  declare,  I  don't  know 
what  she  sees  in  him." 

I  guess  she  saw  something,  because  she  didn't 
seem  to  grow  tired  of  it.  Every  day  Bush  would 
find  something  new  for  her  to  do. 

One  afternoon  as  Slim  and  I  were  coming  in  from 
taking  rock  salt  out  to  the  cattle  Slim  drew  Calico 
up  and  there  in  a  little  swale  were  two  specks.  As 
we  came  closer  we  saw  that  the  two  specks  were 
Bush  and  the  lady. 

"Look  at  that!"  said  Slim,  excitedly.  "He's 
holding  her  up  with  a  gun." 

I  looked  and  it  was  as  he  said. 

"He's  got  two  guns!" 

132 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Bush  was  standing  there  in  his  goatskin  chaps, 
with  his  fancy  belt  around  his  waist  and  his  mustache 
curled  up  to  make  him  look  ferocious.  He  was 
trying  to  sight  down  both  barrels  at  once,  stopping 
sometimes  to  comb  his  mustache  with  the  barrels  of 
one  of  his  guns. 

"The  damned  skunk,"  said  Slim.  "I  knowed  he 
wasn't  any  account,  but  I  didn't  think  he  would 
draw  on  a  lady  like  that.  We  got  to  ride." 

With  that  he  touched  Calico  and  went  sailing  up, 
reaching  for  his  own  gun.  The  lady  looked  up, 
startled. 

"Put  them  down,  you  consarn  fool,"  called  Slim. 
"What  you  mean  drawin'  on  a  lady?  What's  he 
done  to  you,  Miss?" 

"He  hasn't  done  anything,"  said  the  lady.  "In 
fact,  he's  been  very  nice.  He's  posing  for  me  as  a 
two-gun  man.  Here's  the  sketch." 

She  pointed  to  a  folding  wooden  frame  in  front 
of  her  and  there  was  a  drawing  she  had  made  of 
Bush.  It  made  Bush  out  to  be  a  pretty  good-looking 
man. 

"You  sure  he  'ain  t  done  anything  to  you,  lady?" 

"Certainly  not.  He's  been  very  obliging.  Mr. 
Millman  and  I  plan  many  sketching  trips  together." 

Slim  put  away  his  gun  sheepishly.  "Well,  as 
long  as  he  'ain't  harmed  you.  But  any  time  he  does, " 
said  Slim,  kind  of  grinding  his  teeth,  "just  let  me 
know." 

"I  don't  think  I  shall  have  any  occasion  to.     I 
never  knew  any  one  so  obliging.     Now,  Mr.  Mill- 
man, if  you  will  just  take  your  original  pose." 
10  133 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  touched  Calico  and  went  away  with  con- 
siderable speed.  "Think  of  that — him  posing  as  a 
two-gun  man.  Why,  that  galoot  don't  know  any 
more  about  the  fine  points  of  shooting  than  he  does 
about  crocheting!  It's  disgusting." 

With  that  Slim  rode  back  to  the  house  without 
saying  anything.  A  good  many  things  lately  were 
getting  to  be  disgusting  to  Slim. 

"I  was  just  thinking,"  Slim  said  to  her  the  next 
day,  "that  if  you  wanted  to  make  some  pictures  of 
me  twirling  the  rope  I'd  be  glad  to  accommodate. 
I'm  generally  considered  pretty  good  at  it." 

"No,  thank  you  —  Mr.  Millman  has  kindly 
volunteered." 

Slim  blinked  his  eyes.  ' '  What,  him ! "  He  started 
to  say  that  Bush  couldn't  rope  a  cat,  then  stopped. 
"Oh,  very  well  then — I  just  happened  to  think  of 
it." 

"It  was  very  kind  of  you.  Are  you  ready,  Mr. 
Millman?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know — I'm  Reddy's  calf,"  said 
Bush,  and  coming  out  of  the  bunkhouse  with  his 
rope  he  led  her  off,  carrying  her  stool. 

Slim  looked  after  him,  his  Adam's  apple  bobbing 
up  and  down.  Then  he  began  pitching  horseshoes, 
and  the  men  had  to  step  pretty  lively,  because  if  he 
had  hit  one  of  them  it  would  have  crippled  him. 

' '  The  nerve  of  some  people ! ' '  muttered  Slim.  ' '  He 
don't  know  any  more  about  a  saddle  rope  than  he 
does  about  knitting  yarn." 

He  was  pretty  indignant  about  the  way  Bush  was 
fooling  the  lady. 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"I'll  make  up  for  it  on  the  night  of  the  dance," 
said  Slim.  "We  sure  are  going  to  have  a  big  time 
then.  I  always  was  light  on  my  feet." 

Slim  and  I  started  out  to  get  Lone  Swanson. 
Sometimes  we  would  gallop  and  sometimes  we  would 
trot  and  sometimes  we  would  walk.  When  we 
walked  my  elbows  didn't  jar  the  wind  out  of  me  so 
much,  but  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  Slim  how 
we  traveled.  He  would  sit  there  as  comfortable  as 
if  he  was  in  a  rocking-chair.  Sometimes  away  off 
we  would  see  an  Indian  on  a  pony  and  then  he  would 
disappear.  The  hills  would  sweep  away  and  I 
would  think  that  that  was  all  of  them;  then  we 
would  get  to  the  top  and  there  would  be  more. 

"Le's  stop  and  have  something  to  eat,"  I  said,  be- 
cause I  was  getting  hungry.  Sometimes  Slim  would 
get  to  thinking  and  forget  meal-time,  but  I  wouldn't. 
I  never  forgot  anything  that  way.  Only  sometimes 
I  would  think  it  was  dinner-time  and  Slim  would 
look  at  his  watch  and  it  would  be  only  a  quarter 
to  ten. 

"You  see  if  you  can't  find  some  dry  greasewood," 
said  Slim,  "while  I  give  the  horses  a  roll." 

With  that  we  took  off  the  saddles,  because  when 
you  are  riding  there  is  nothing  that  does  horses  more 
good  than  a  roll.  Then  we  picketed  them  out. 

"  We  better  burn  off  a  spot  so  we  won't  set  any- 
thing afire,"  said  Slim.  Ripping  a  match  along  the 
seat  of  his  pants  he  touched  it  to  the  grass.  It 
stood  still  a  moment,  then  blue  smoke  began  to 
curl  upward.  Then  it  leaped  into  a  blaze.  When 
it  had  burned  a  few  feet  Slim  began  to  whack  it 

i3S 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

with  a  blanket,  because  you  always  have  to  be 
careful  of  prairie  fires,  and  especially  when  it  is 
windy. 

I  pulled  up  some  buckberry  bushes  and  got  some 
buffalo  chips. 

"We  got  to  have  some  more,"  said  Slim,  looking 
the  pile  over.  "We  ain't  just  going  to  scare  the 
bacon." 

I  went  back  and  searched  around  everywhere,  but 
there  wasn't  anything  except  once  in  a  while  a 
buffalo  horn  where  it  had  been  knocked  off  in  some 
fight,  but  no  difference  how  old  and  white  and  dry- 
looking  the  horn  was  it  wouldn't  burn.  Then  I  saw 
a  white  end  coming  out  of  the  sand  and  started  to 
pick  it  up.  I  lifted  and  pulled,  but  couldn't  get  it 
loose. 

I  called  Slim.  "Come  here  and  help  me  get  this 
stick  out." 

Slim  came  swinging  up  and  bent  over.  But 
even  both  of  us  couldn't  get  it  loose.  Slim  be- 
gan to  examine  it  close  and  then  his  eyes  began 
to  bat. 

"Land  of  goodness,  boy,  that  ain't  no  stick — 
that's  a  bone." 

We  looked  closer  and  it  was.  The  end  had  been 
sticking  out  of  the  ground  so  long  that  it  had  become 
parched  and  white. 

"I  guess  some  puncher  has  bit  the  dust  here," 
said  Slim,  and  we  gave  a  pull,  but  it  didn't  come  up. 

"That  ain't  no  man,"  said  Slim,  "and  by  jacks! 
it  ain't  any  buffalo  either." 

Then  we  began  to  scratch  back  the  dirt,  more  and 

136 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

more  of  the  rib  coming  into  sight.  Slim's  eyes  began 
to  bulge  out.  "By  whoopy!  a  buffalo  would  be  a 
sucking  calf  alongside  of  this." 

We  got  out  our  knives  and  began  to  throw  the 
dirt  back  and  more  and  more  of  the  rib  came  into 
sight,  all  solid  as  a  fence  rail.  We  forgot  about 
eating,  because  everywhere  we  dug  there  would  still 
be  the  bone. 

"I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  said  Slim,  "but  by 
whoopy!  I  wouldn't  want  to  meet  it  out  here  bare- 
footed. It  must  have  been  as  big  as  a  load  of  hay. 
Look  at  that — it  would  be  all  one  man  could  do  to 
carry  one  of  its  ribs.  Two  ribs  and  you  would  have 
to  put  them  on  a  wagon.  If  that  thing  ever  got  on 
a  rampage — excuse  me.  It  wouldn't  do  any  good 
to  get  under  a  bed.  If  it  ever  set  down  on  the  bed 
all  there  would  be  left  of  you  would  be  one  boot  with 
the  sole  kind  of  crumpled  up." 

"But  what  is  it?"  I  asked,  excited. 

"Your  guess  is  as  good  as  mine,  pard.  I  should 
judge,  though,  from  handling  one  of  its  ribs,  that  it 
was  a  cross  between  a  whale  and  an  elephant,  with 
quite  a  bit  of  kangaroo  in  it." 

We  dug  some  more,  scooping  back  the  dirt  with 
the  skillet  till  we  could  climb  in  the  hole.  There 
was  its  backbone,  twisted  around  the  way  it  had 
fallen  down  a  good  many  million  years  ago.  I 
couldn't  reach  around  it. 

"What  are  we  going  to  do  with  it?"  I  asked. 

"One  thing  sure,  we  ain't  going  to  take  it  with  us. 
I  guess  we'd  have  to  hire  a  flatcar  for  that.  I 
calc'late  since  it's  been  here  about  a  million  years, 

J37 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

that  we  can  leave  it  here  awhile  longer  without 
anybody  running  off  with  it." 

We  began  putting  the  dirt  back. 

It  made  me  thoughtful  standing  there  looking 
down  on  the  bones,  because  I  am  naturally  thought- 
ful. Give  me  something  to  think  about  and  I  am  a 
pretty  good  thinker.  No  telling  how  many  million 
years  those  bones  had  lain  there.  They  were  there 
before  I  was  born.  There  might  have  been  an  ocean 
on  this  very  spot.  If  there  was  an  ocean  here,  did 
the  waters  go  away  and  leave  it  or  did  some  woman 
wreck  its  life? 

One  time  it  was  alive  and  thought  it  was  the 
whole  show  and  now  it  was  just  a  carload  of  bones. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  one  rib  sticking  out  I 
wouldn't  have  found  it.  If  that  rib  hadn't  been 
twisted  or  bent  to  one  side,  or  if  a  tumbleweed  had 
lodged  against  it  and  dirt  blown  over  it,  it  might 
have  gone  till  the  end  of  the  world  and  nobody  would 
have  found  it.  One  time  it  thought  it  was  some- 
body, and  now  two  of  us  couldn't  guess  what  it  was. 
How  did  it  get  there?  Where  was  it  going?  Did 
it  have  troubles  with  the  opposite  sex?  Was  any- 
body ever  fickle  to  it  ?  What  was  it  doing  out  here 
on  the  prairies  and  how  did  it  get  anything  to  eat? 
A  wagon-load  of  pies  would  be  just  dessert  to  it. 
One  time  it  was  the  biggest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
now  it  was  just  a  boneyard.  Did  it  swim  or  did  it 
walk?  Did  it  ever  have  its  heart  broken? 

I  liked  to  stand  there  and  have  big  thoughts  and 
once  in  a  while  swallow  and  think  about  Addie.  If 
I  wasn't  anything  but  a  bone-pile,  would  she  care? 

138 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Would  she  break  down  with  grief  and  her  hair  grow 
gray  overnight,  or  would  she  just  turn  over  one  of 
my  bones  with  her  foot  and  go  on  ? 

"I'll  bet  we  can  sell  this,"  said  Slim,  and  we  began 
to  feel  pretty  good,  because  maybe  we  could. 

Before  we  started,  after  dinner,  we  looked  around 
and  marked  the  place  so  that  we  could  find  it  again ; 
then  we  rode  off  toward  Lone  Swanson's.  Lone 
belonged  to  the  sheepmen,  and  sometimes  the  cattle- 
men and  the  sheepmen  would  get  to  shooting, 
but  it  wasn't  Lone's  fault,  as  he  was  only  one  of 
the  herders.  There  wasn't  a  better  musician  on 
the  range  than  Lone,  even  if  he  did  work  for  the 
sheepmen. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  sheep-herder  can  get  away  from  the  ladies,  but  he  has  to  wash  the  dishes. 
We  meet  Billy  Hell,  but  he  was  never  educated  to  be  around  the 
weaker  sex.  Then  hoofs  sound  outside. 

WE  turned  off  the  main  trail  at  last  and  went 
winding  up  a  slough  that  was  flat  and  dry, 
but  when  it  rained  it  was  half  a  mile  wide.  Then 
a  few  days  later  it  would  be  dry  again. 

"There  it  is,"  said  Slim.  "I  thought  I  had  the 
lay  of  the  land  right." 

Slim  could  see  better  than  anybody  I  ever  knew. 
His  eye  was  always  roving  around  and  if  an  Indian 
pony  had  gone  by  he  could  tell  it,  but  I  wouldn't 
know  it  till  Slim  got  off  and  showed  me  the  puff- 
ball  that  had  been  flattened  out. 

The  house  was  hard  to  see,  because  it  was  sod  and 
melted  into  the  prairie.  It  was  not  a  fancy  wooden 
one  like  Mr.  Harbaugh's,  with  a  porch,  but  made  out 
of  dirt.  The  walls  were  three  feet  thick  and  the 
roof  was  covered  over  with  prairie  hay. 

"We  better  take  a  turn  around  it,"  said  Slim, 
"because  you  never  know  what  you're  going  to 
find."  With  that  we  rode  around,  but  there  wasn't 
a  sight  or  sound.  "I  guess  it's  all  safe." 

The  grass  came  up  to  the  door,  except  right  in 

140 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

front  where  Lone  threw  his  dish-water.  Dropping 
our  reins  we  got  off.  Outside  the  door  was  hanging 
a  piece  of  buckskin.  Slim  pulled  it  and  pushed 
open  the  door.  The  room  was  dark  inside,  as  there 
was  only  one  window  and  most  of  its  panes  had  been 
broken  and  stuffed  full  of  old  clothes.  On  the  table 
were  some  dishes  that  hadn't  been  washed  in  a  long 
time,  and  on  the  floor  a  boot  with  most  of  the  top 
cut  away  to  make  washers  for  some  bolt  head.  It 
was  plain  to  be  seen  that  Lone  was  not  expecting 
company. 

There  was  no  floor — just  the  dirt  tramped  down 
hard  and  near  the  hay  stove  there  were  big  cracks  in 
it  where  the  dirt  had  dried  out  faster. 

"I  guess  there  ain't  anybody  here,"  said  Slim, 
but  he  hadn't  more  than  said  it  when  a  voice  called 
out: 

"Shut  the  door — shut  the  door,  I  say." 

It  was  a  high,  sharp  voice  that  made  the  room 
ring.  It  didn't  take  me  long  to  get  out. 

I  looked  up  at  Slim.  His  eyes  were  batting  and 
his  Adam's  apple  going  up  and  down.  "Well,  I 
don't  know  who  that  was,  but  I  calc'late  I'll  find 
out." 

With  that  he  went  back,  but  he  hadn't  any  more 
than  touched  the  door  than  the  voice  sounded 
again: 

' '  He  split  my  tongue.  That's  what  he  did — damn 
his  soul." 

The  shrill  voice  made  the  room  ring.  I  looked  up 
at  the  ceiling  and  there  on  a  forked  piece  of  cotton- 
wood  that  held  the  hay  roof  up  was  a  crow  with  its 

141 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

blue  eyes  shining.    Its  wings  had  been  clipped  so 
that  it  could  not  fly. 

It  hopped  along  on  one  foot  till  it  got  to  the  end 
of  the  perch.  ' '  He  split  my  tongue — damn  his  soul, ' ' 
it  shrieked  again,  making  the  words  ring  in  our  ears. 

"He's  tamed  a  crow  and  split  its  tongue  so  that 
it  can  talk,"  said  Slim.  "I  guess  he  gets  pretty 
lonesome.  Sheep-herding  ain't  a  sociable  job." 

As  we  started  out  the  crow  hopped  down  toward 
us,  shrieking:  "He  split  my  tongue — damn  his 
soul.  Shut  the  door." 

We  rode  out  to  the  highest  hill  and  there  Slim 
stopped  and  listened.  "They're  over  this  way." 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  asked,  because  I  couldn't 
hear  anything  but  the  horses  fighting  buffalo  gnats. 

"Can't  you  hear  the  bell-wethers?" 

I  couldn't,  but  after  we  had  ridden  a  bit  in  the 
direction  Slim  said  I  began  to  hear  them.  Just  a 
faint  tinkle  and  then  gone  again.  Just  as  I  would 
begin  to  think  we  were  going  in  the  wrong  direction 
I  would  hear  them  again  a  little  closer.  Then  came 
into  sight  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  sheep,  all 
eating  in  the  same  direction,  covering  the  hills  and 
tapering  off  down  the  valley.  A  dog  barked  and 
came  running  up  toward  us.  It  was  Lone's  sheep- 
dog. Then  Lone  Swanson  rose  up  from  where  he 
was  playing  with  a  lamb. 

He  seemed  mostly  mustache  at  first,  because 
living  out  there  with  the  sheep  he  didn't  have  to 
have  it  cut  very  often.  His  coat  collar  was  greasy, 
because  his  hair  was  the  same  way.  He  was  sitting 
on  his  raincoat. 

142 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Guess  you  wasn't  lookin'  for  company,"  said 
Slim,  throwing  his  leg  over  the  saddle-horn  to  show 
Lone  there  wasn't  anything  rushing. 

"Can't  say  as  I  was." 

He  stood  looking  us  over,  pulling  at  a  chokeberry. 
Even  though  he  got  to  see  some  one  only  once  a 
month  he  wasn't  going  to  get  excited  about  it. 

"We  stopped  by  your  house  first — and  we  got 
quite  a  welcome." 

Lone  Swanson  smiled.  "Billy  Hell,  I  guess.  He 
kind  of  startles  people  the  first  time  they  meet  him, 
as  he  don't  talk  in  no  whisper.  I  got  him  when  he 
was  a  little  shaver  and  brought  him  up." 

"Ain't  you  ever  afraid  living  there  all  by  yourself  ?" 

"Can't  say  as  I  am.  I  'ain't  ever  done  anything 
to  anybody  and  I  guess  nobody  would  want  to  harm 
me  and  Billy  Hell." 

"I  came  over  from  the  C  Q,"  said  Slim,  "to  see 
if  you  didn't  want  to  set  in  on  some  high  life.  We 
been  kind  of  thinking  of  getting  up  a  dance,  and 
some  of  them  'lowed  maybe  you'd  like  to  bring  your 
fiddle  over  and  tear  off  a  few  pieces." 

"Don't  know  but  what  I  would,"  said  Lone,  and 
Slim  told  him  all  about  it.  Then  we  gave  him  some 
of  our  fresh  bacon  and  rode  home. 

We  began  getting  ready  for  the  dance,  because  it 
wasn't  often  there  was  a  dance  on  the  range  and  the 
men  wanted  to  make  the  best  of  it.  There  was  no 
more  pitching  horseshoes,  because  the  men  were 
shining  their  boots  and  polishing  up  their  belts,  and 
out  behind  the  bunkhouse  Bun  Wah  was  getting  a 
good  many  quarters  for  cutting  hair. 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Bun  Wah  began  to  get  interested,  too.  He  came 
out,  holding  a  new  suit  over  his  arm. 

"Bun  Wah  catchee  him  nice  piece  suit,  too,"  he 
said.  "Look,  see — slilk."  He  had  got  out  his  best 
clothes. 

We  carried  out  the  furniture  from  Mr.  Harbaugh's 
house  and  brought  in  benches  from  the  cook-house. 
There  wasn't  anybody  there  at  six  o'clock,  then 
pretty  soon  the  yard  began  to  fill  up.  Lone  Swanson 
came  in  on  his  pony,  Billy  Hell  balancing  himself  on 
his  shoulder.  He  wouldn't  go  any  place  without 
Billy.  Billy  Hell  didn't  want  anybody  to  touch  him 
except  Lone.  If  anybody  put  out  a  hand  for  him 
he  would  sidle  over,  double  up  his  leg,  and  strike 
out  with  his  claw.  When  we  brought  him  in  and  he 
saw  everybody  he  turned  his  eyes  around — like 
rolling  a  saucer.  Lone  took  his  fiddle  out  of  his 
flannel  bag  and  began  to  tune  up,  while  Billy  Hell 
sat  on  his  shoulder,  turning  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
because  he  liked  music.  Then  Lone  put  a  handker- 
chief under  his  chin  and  the  dance  started. 

The  house  began  to  rock  and  everybody  began  to 
feel  good,  the  ladies  swinging  their  skirts  as  they 
went  around  and  the  men  kicking  up  their  heels 
and  once  in  a  while  going  yip.  Lone  put  himself 
into  it.  He  wouldn't  any  more  than  stop  "Hog  in 
a  Corn-brake"  till  he  would  swing  into  "Hop 
Light,  Ladies."  Faster  and  faster  they  went  while 
Lone  rocked  and  swayed  until  it  was  all  Billy  Hell 
could  do  to  stay  on.  Sometimes  he  would  go  away 
over  till  Billy  would  have  to  brace  himself  with  his 
tail,  then  Lone  would  start  to  swing  in  the  other 

144 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

direction  till  he  would  have  to  grab  hold  with  his 
bill.  Lone  sat  there  swaying  his  body  and  patting 
his  foot.  Balancing  the  fiddle  on  his  knees  he  took 
a  wheat  straw  in  each  hand  and  began  pecking  on  the 
fiddle-strings  till  it  sounded  like  a  banjo  being  played 
while  the  other  musicians  kept  fiddling  away.  Lone 
was  good  at  straw-beating  and  played  "Fisher's 
Hornpipe"  while  the  men  swung  them  around. 

Bun  Wah  came  shuffling  in,  sliding  along  in  his 
slippers.  He  had  on  the  new  suit  with  the  frogs 
worked  in  silk.  He  brushed  it  gently,  because  he 
was  proud  of  it.  When  he  saw  Billy  Hell  he  stopped, 
surprised.  He  had  never  seen  anything  like  that 
before.  The  only  crows  he  had  ever  seen  had  been 
on  haystacks. 

Billy  Hell  stood  looking  at  Bun  Wah  a  moment, 
his  big  blue  eyes  rolling  around.  Then  he  screamed, 
"Shut  the  door." 

Bun  Wah  turned  around  to  see  who  was  speaking, 
because  he  thought  he  must  be  mistaken.  Billy 
Hell  didn't  give  him  long  to  wait.  "Shut  the  door." 

Bun  Wah  shut  it,  and  it  didn't  take  him  long.  It 
wasn't  often  that  we  could  get  Bun  Wah  to  hurry, 
but  he  hurried  now.  His  slippers  just  shuffled  a 
couple  of  times  and  the  door  was  shut. 

He  came  back  and  bowed.  "Velly  well.  Have 
done."  He  didn't  understand  it,  but  he  was  going 
to  be  polite  just  the  same. 

Slim  made  a  sign  to  Duff  and  Duff  walked  out  in 
front  of  Bun  Wah  and  sat  down. 

"Let  me  do  some  talking,"  he  said. 

Bun  Wah's  eyes  began  to  bat,  because  he  had 

i4S 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

never  before  heard  an  argument  between  a  bird  and 
a  dog. 

Billy  Hell's  eyes  turned  around  like  rolling  a 
saucer,  then  he  screamed,  "Shut  up." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Duff,  "but  if  I  want  to  talk 
I'm  going  to  do  it." 

Billy  Hell  doubled  up  his  claw  and  rolled  his  eyes 
again.  "Shut  up,  I  say — shut  up." 

Duff  hit  the  floor  a  flop.  "I  see  Bun  Wah  has  a 
new  suit." 

Bun  Wah  looked  down  at  his  suit  and  smiled  a 
bit.  He  was  proud  of  his  new  suit,  but  he  didn't 
expect  that  it  was  going  to  be  talked  about. 

"Velly  nice.     Bun  Wah  make  some,  buy  some." 

"Have  you  a  new  suit,  Billy?" 

"No-no-oo-o-o,"  screamed  Billy  Hell. 

"I  'ain't  either,"  said  Duff. 

Bun  Wah  began  to  look  nervous,  because  he  saw 
that  they  were  jealous.  Plenty  of  expression  was 
coming  into  his  face.  He  didn't  look  now  as  if  he 
was  playing  poker. 

Duff  hit  the  floor  another  flop.  "What  do  you 
think  we  ought  to  do  to  him,  Billy?" 

"Split  his  tongue.  Damn  his  soul — split  his 
tongue,"  screamed  Billy  Hell. 

Bun  Wah's  fingers  began  to  twitch  and  his  tongue 
moved  uneasily.  Then  his  hand  went  up  as  if  to 
protect  it. 

Duff  looked  around  over  the  room.  "Anybody 
here  got  a  knife?" 

Bun  Wah  didn't  wait  to  hear  the  answer.  He 
began  slapping  at  the  evil  spirits  around  him.  "Me 

146 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

catchee  devil,"  he  said,  and  out  the  door  he  went, 
his  pigtail  switching  behind  him.  Then  the  door 
of  the  cook-house  slammed. 

We  went  on  with  the  dance. 

Bush  Millman  was  all  fixed  up,  except  the  wax  was 
getting  out  of  one  end  of  his  mustache  and  he  had  to 
stop  once  in  a  while  to  twist  it  up  again.  Taking 
off  his  coat  he  hung  it  over  the  back  of  a  chair  and 
then  he  began  to  have  a  good  time. 

Slim  stood  around  trying  to  smile  and  act  as  if  he 
was  having  a  good  time,  too,  but  things  were  not 
turning  out  the  way  he  had  expected.  There  were 
too  many  after  the  lady — and  especially  Bush 
Millman. 

Watching  his  chance,  Slim  came  up  to  her  and 
bowed  low,  the  way  he  could.  "Would  there  be 
any  objection  to  me  steppin'  off  the  next  one  with 
you?" 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,  but  Mr.  Millman  has  it." 

Slim  tried  to  smile,  but  it  wasn't  much  of  a  smile. 
It  was  more  like  when  you  have  the  toothache  and 
somebody  comes  up  and  tries  to  make  you  forget. 

"Well,  supposin'  we  make  it  the  next  one." 

"Sorry  again,  Mr.  Belcher,  but  I've  promised 
that  to  Mr.  Gurney." 

Then  she  glided  off  in  Bush  Millman's  arms,  Bush 
putting  in  a  lot  of  fancy  kicks  and  twirls. 

"Look  at  that,"  said  Slim,  "him  thinkin'  he  can 
dance!  Alongside  him  a  milk-cow  would  be  ag-yle. 
I  don't  want  to  brag  on  myself,  but  if  I  couldn't 
dance  around  him  I'd  eat  my  hat." 

But  it  didn't  do  any  good  for  him  to  offer  to  do 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

the  eating,  because  Miss  Hazleton  didn't  pay  any 
more  attention  to  him  than  if  he  hadn't  been  within 
forty  miles.  Instead  of  that  she'd  come  floating 
back  in  Bush's  arms,  looking  up  into  Bush's  face  and 
smiling. 

"Look  at  that,"  said  Slim,  "her  gazin'  up  into 
his  face  as  if  he  was  an  angel  in  heaven.  It's  sick- 
ening. All  I  got  to  say  is,  if  I  wanted  an  angel  Bush 
is  about  the  last  one  I  would  put  a  rope  on." 

The  dance  wasn't  turning  out  the  way  Slim  was 
expecting.  He  looked  pretty  discouraged. 

"You'd  think  as  smart  a  girl  as  she  is  would  pick 
out  somebody  who  could  dance.  A  hog  on  ice  would 
be  a  professor  alongside  that  lummox.  She's  taking 
her  life  in  her  hands  every  time  she  gets  on  the  floor 
with  that  giraffe." 

But  it  didn't  worry  the  lady  about  taking  her  life 
in  her  hands.  She  seemed  to  like  it. 

The  music  got  louder  and  louder.  Lone  Swanson 
rolled  in  his  chair  while  Billy  Hell  balanced  himself 
on  his  shoulder.  The  house  rocked,  while  around 
and  around  the  men  went  to  "Forked  Deer"  and 
"Cotton-eyed  Joe,"  kicking  up  their  heels  and 
yipping  whenever  Lone  hit  a  chord  they  liked. 

"I'm  going,"  said  Slim.  "I'm  not  feeling  very 
well  this  evening.  You  can  tell  anybody  that  if 
they  ask  you." 

But  before  he  could  start  Duff  got  up  from  where 
he  was  sitting  and  began  to  whine — not  a  bark,  but 
a  long,  uneasy  whine.  Hoofs  sounded  outside,  then 
suddenly  stopped.  Lone  Swanson  lifted  his  head 
from  his  violin,  his  handkerchief  still  spread  out. 

148 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Then  the  door  was  pushed  open  and  Slade  stood  in 
the  light.  His  pony's  sides  were  going  in  and  out, 
its  nostrils  spread  out  like  a  funnel.  One  of  Slade's 
arms  was  hanging  limp  at  his  side. 

"They're  out  among  the  cattle — the  night  riders. 
I  think  maybe  I  got  one  of  them.  We've  got  to 
move  fast,  because  they're  shoving  right  along." 

Then  lanterns  began  to  appear. 
11 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  light  in  the  window  gets  fainter  and  fainter,  then  drops  behind  a 
ridge.  Circles  of  black  smoke  go  twisting  up  and  we  are  off  on  the 
trail  of  the  Snake  River  gang.  Then  we  come  to  the  meat  wagon 
and  what  is  in  it. 

THE  house  became  still;  there  was  no  more 
laughter,  no  more  yipping.  In  the  door  Lone 
Swanson  stood,  with  Billy  Hell  balancing  himself  on 
his  shoulder. 

Lone  put  his  fiddle  away  in  his  flannel  bag.  "I 
guess  that  '11  be  all  for  to-night." 

To  the  barn  the  men  went,  the  lanterns  bobbing 
along  and  their  spurs  clinking.  The  doors  creaked 
on  their  hinges,  the  lights  disappeared  and  in  a  mo- 
ment the  wooden  stirrups  of  the  saddles  boomed 
against  the  stalls. 

Slim  was  a  new  man.  Hanging  his  lantern  on  a 
cottonwood  hook,  his  fingers  flew  in  and  out  among 
the  laces  of  his  saddle.  When  Bush  couldn't  find 
his  bridle  Slim  held  his  lantern  for  him  till  they  dis- 
covered it  under  the  bedding  where  one  of  the  colts 
had  trampled  it  down.  He  wasn't  worrying  now 
about  Bush  not  being  an  equal. 

The  horses'  feet  rattled  on  the  cottonwood  poles 
outside  the  door.  The  horses  snorted  and  struck 

150 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

the  ground  with  their  feet,  because  they  knew  what 
was  coming. 

Slade  came  running  out,  one  sleeve  pinned  up. 

"You're  not  fit  to  go,"  called  Mr.  Harbaugh. 

"I  know  I  ain't,  but  I'm  going  just  the  same.  I 
guess  one  hand  is  better  than  none."  He  swung  up 
on  the  saddle.  "They're  heading  up  the  valley — 
trying  to  get  over  into  the  foothills." 

Up  the  trail  we  went,  the  ponies  running  side  by 
side.  The  light  showed  in  the  window  awhile,  then 
grew  fainter  and  fainter  till  pretty  soon  it  dropped 
behind  a  ridge.  We  were  out  after  the  Snake  River 
gang. 

At  first  we  couldn't  see  anything — just  faint 
shadows  opening  and  shutting.  Up  and  down  the 
men  rose  and  fell,  as  if  riding  on  a  merry-go-round. 
Once  in  a  while  a  pony  would  snort  and  rattle  its 
bridle,  but  that  was  all.  There  wasn't  any  talking. 
The  men  could  do  plenty  of  it  out  behind  the  wind- 
mill when  they  were  washing  up,  but  now  they 
didn't  have  anything  to  say. 

It  began  to  dawn.  The  light  showed  first  on  top 
of  the  lone  cottonwoods,  then  it  began  to  come  down 
as  if  somebody  was  climbing  a  ladder  with  a  lantern. 
The  ropes  on  the  saddles  began  to  show,  then  the 
men's  faces  under  their  dark,  flapping  hats.  A  wolf 
coming  in  from  a  long  night's  run  loomed  up  ahead, 
then  disappeared,  but  nobody  fired  at  it.  The  men 
were  not  after  coyotes. 

It  was  wonderful.  How  things  had  changed 
since  I  had  left  Temptation  forever !  Hoot  Howden 
was  probably  trying  to  show  off  around  the  girls,  and 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

here  I  was  riding  after  the  Snake  River  gang.  I 
was  a  man  now. 

On  over  the  hills  we  rode,  one  long  hill  stretching 
away  off  ahead  with  only  tumbleweeds  and  a  few 
twisted  bushes  showing  and  once  in  a  while  the  grass 
growing  up  tall  and  black  where  there  was  a  little 
water,  and  then  just  as  we  would  get  to  the  top 
there  would  be  another  ridge  that  seemed  just  a  few 
yards  higher,  stretching  off  endlessly  into  the  dis- 
tance. Rabbits  would  go  leaping  away,  their  white 
tails  rising  and  falling,  and  then  a  buzzard  would  go 
winging  away  from  some  dead  steer  that  he  had  been 
eating.  Then  we  would  stop  and  loosen  the  cinches 
and  let  the  horses  rest.  Then  on  again. 

"We'd  better  scatter  out  so  as  to  pick  up  the 
trail,"  said  Mr.  Harbaugh.  "If  any  of  you  find  it 
start  up  a  smudge  fire." 

Off  we  rode  in  different  directions.  But  the  Snake 
River  gang  knew  too  much  about  driving  cattle  to 
leave  an  open  trail.  Once  in  a  while  on  a  rock  we 
would  see  where  the  Indians  had  scratched  signs 
telling  where  the  water-holes  were,  but  mostly  it  was 
nothing — just  land.  As  we  rode  on,  the  foothills 
began  coming  into  view.  There  was  not  much 
green  growing  on  them — just  rocks  and  hills  and 
barren  stretches,  and  birds  flopping  by  to  some 
better  place. 

Now  and  then  we  would  pass  a  house,  with  half  a 
dozen  dogs  lunging  out,  where  an  Indian  was  trying 
to  farm.  Sometimes  we  would  see  a  figure  out  in  the 
field  driving  a  cow  and  a  horse  to  a  plow,  and  when 
we  would  get  up  it  would  be  a  squaw,  because  the 

152 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

men  would  rather  fish.  It  was  a  pretty  hard  pull 
for  the  Indians  to  give  up  hunting  and  roaming  and 
begin  trying  to  make  a  living  farming.  It  was 
hard  enough  for  anybody.  Most  of  the  whites  were 
starving  out. 

"What's  that?"  said  Slade,  pointing  over  the 
hills,  because  Slade  was  quick  to  see  things. 

As  we  came  closer  we  saw  that  it  was  a  meat 
wagon.  Some  Indian  family  had  been  off  the  reser- 
vation hunting  on  a  pass  and  was  coming  back  with 
what  they  had  killed.  The  horses  had  been  shot. 
One  was  lying  with  its  neck  across  the  other,  because 
it  was  the  last  to  be  killed. 

"The  gang  can't  be  very  far  ahead,"  said  Mr. 
Harbaugh,  and  with  that  we  began  to  ride  faster 
than  ever. 

We  saw  another  speck  across  the  ridges.  "That's 
the  bed  wagon,"  said  Slade.  "We'll  catch  up  with 
them  and  ask  which  way  the  gang  turned.  They've 
helped  themselves  to  some  fresh  meat  and  gone  on." 

But  as  we  came  closer  we  saw  that  the  wagon  was 
not  moving.  The  wagon  had  been  pulled  out  of  the 
trail  into  a  little  gully.  One  of  the  horses  was 
tangled  up  in  the  harness,  dead.  The  other  was 
gone. 

The  men  became  silent.  Our  horses  came  up, 
blowing  through  their  nostrils  and  striking  the 
ground.  Already  a  buzzard  was  beginning  to  circle 
around.  Climbing  up  on  the  wheel  Slade  pulled 
back  the  top.  Then  he  got  down  quickly. 

"You'd  better  look  for  yourself,"  he  said. 

There  on  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  was  Walking 

153 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Thunder,  dead.  His  long  black  hair  was  matted 
and  one  arm  was  twisted  under  him.  The  Snake 
River  gang  had  shot  him  because  he  would  not  give 
them  meat.  He  had  been  on  the  meat  wagon  and 
his  wife  had  been  on  the  other,  driving  back  to  White 
Clay  Creek.  She  had  dragged  him  to  her  wagon 
and  tried  to  drive  away,  but  they  had  come  for  her. 
One  of  the  ponies  was  killed.  Climbing  on  the 
other  with  Jennie  Bird  and  the  children  she  had 
ridden  for  her  life. 

There  was  no  better  Indian  than  Walking  Thunder. 
He  had  had  a  hard  life.  Once  he  had  hunted  and 
roamed  the  prairies,  but  when  the  whites  had  come 
and  the  treaty  had  been  signed  by  Plenty  Horses 
he  had  given  it  up  and  tried  to  farm.  Making  a 
living  off  the  prairie  was  not  easy.  It  was  all  the 
whites  could  do.  Then  his  little  boy  had  got  the 
paralysis  and  he  had  taken  him  to  Father  Foulois's 
Mission.  That  was  all  his  life  had  amounted  to. 
He  had  worked  and  done  his  best  and  raised  a  family 
and  now  he  had  been  killed  because  he  would  not 
give  up  his  meat  to  a  gang  of  cattle  thieves.  When 
he  had  brought  the  pemmican  to  his  little  boy  at  the 
Mission  that  day  Walking  Thunder  had  been  so 
happy,  because  his  little  boy  was  well  and  learning 
to  read — and  now  he  was  crumpled  up  on  the 
bottom  of  the  wagon  with  his  hair  matted  and  dust 
on  his  eyeballs. 

Later  we  found  what  happened  to  the  wife  of 
Walking  Thunder.  With  Jennie  Bird  behind  her 
and  the  other  children  in  front  of  her  she  had  ridden 
away  on  her  pony  toward  White  Clay  Creek.  One 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

of  the  children  became  sick  and  while  she  was  waiting 
on  him  the  pony  got  away.  On  foot  she  started 
again,  traveling  day  after  day,  finding  what  food 
she  could  for  the  children,  making  detours  around 
the  houses  of  the  white  farmers,  becaijse  she  thought 
they  were  all  alike.  One  of  the  babies  died;  she 
carried  it  as  long  as  she  could  in  her  arms,  then 
buried  it  under  a  heap  of  stones  so  that  the  coyotes 
could  not  get  at  it.  She  started  on  again,  but  she 
was  getting  pretty  weak  so  that  she  fell  often,  but  at 
last  reached  White  Clay  Creek.  That  night  there 
was  a  dance  among  the  Indians  and  the  word  be- 
gan to  spread.  Then  they  began  to  believe  more 
than  ever  what  the  Messiah  would  do  for  them. 
The  wife  of  Walking  Thunder  began  to  hate  all 
whites. 

"We've  got  to  get  them  now,"  said  Mr.  Harbaugh, 
and  with  that  we  rode  away  faster  than  ever. 

Slim  lifted  his  eyes.  Away  off  in  the  distance  a 
column  of  black  smoke  was  going  up  in  twists  and 
kinks. 

"That's  it,"  said  Slim,  and  we  rode  toward  it. 

It  was  Al  Gurney  throwing  dirt  over  the  dry  grass 
to  keep  it  from  burning  too  fast  and  fanning  it  with 
his  tarpaulin. 

Over  the  hills  we  followed  the  trail. 

"They've  been  keeping  them  swinging  along," 
said  Slade. 

"Boys,  I  guess  maybe  that's  what  we're  hunting," 
said  Mr.  Harbaugh,  and  pointed  off  over  the  ridges. 
Things  that  seemed  about  the  size  of  ants  were  mov- 
ing up  a  gully.  "I  want  a  couple  of  you  boys  to 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

keep  your  eyes  on  the  cattle.  The  rest  of  us  will 
swing  off  to  the  right  so  as  to  get  as  close  to  their 
horses  as  we  can."  He  turned  to  me.  "You  had 
better  stay  here  to  check  the  cattle." 

Up  the  gully  the  men  rode  and  back  to  me  came 
the  sound  of  them  trying  their  rifles. 

The  speck  keeping  guard  behind  rode  up  quickly. 
The  alarm  was  given.  The  men  bunched  together, 
then  turning  circled  the  cattle.  Into  their  faces  the 
thieves  began  firing.  In  a  moment  the  cattle  were 
milling.  Then  over  the  hills  they  rode,  bending  close 
to  their  horses. 

It  was  three  hours  before  our  men  came  back, 
riding  slowly.  There  was  something  the  matter; 
they  were  not  waving  their  hats  and  shouting.  In 
the  middle  was  a  pony  without  a  rider  and  as 
they  came  closer  I  saw  that  it  had  something 
across  its  back.  It  was  Slade.  His  feet  were  tied 
together  and  his  hands  bound  to  his  body  so  that 
they  would  not  drag.  His  hair  was  hanging  down 
and  his  spurs  were  hooked  over  each  other.  Once 
in  a  while  Slade's  pony  would  turn  and  look  back 
at  him,  because  he  knew  that  something  was  the 
matter. 

"They  got  him,"  said  Mr.  Harbaugh,  "but  they 
paid  their  price.  They  made  a  run  for  an  oak 
thicket  and  got  inside  an  old  pole  stable.  They 
had  the  best  of  us,  as  they  had  protection.  We  had 
to  crawl  through  the  grass  till  Slade  decided  to  make 
a  run  for  their  horses.  He  just  sort  of  wabbled  and 
then  slouched  down.  Then  after  a  while  we  got 
them  out.  I  guess  they  will  have  to  send  back  a 

156 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

burying  party.  When  we  got  to  Slade  he  had  one 
arm  folded  across  his  face  as  if  he  was  going  to  sleep, 
and  I  guess  that's  where  he  has  gone." 

On  top  of  a  knoll  under  a  cottonwood  the  men  got 
out  their  pocket-knives  and  frying  skillets  and  began 
digging  the  grave,  while  one  of  the  men  from  the 
east  ranch  climbed  the  tree.  When  he  came  down 
he  had  two  poles.  He  began  notching  them  and 
tying  them  with  buckskin  and  when  he  finished  he 
had  a  cross. 

With  a  rope  under  each  end  of  the  body,  Slade 
was  lowered  into  the  ground,  with  his  handkerchief 
pulled  up  over  his  face.  His  hat  would  be  taken 
back  and  kept. 

Around  the  sloping  sides  the  men  stood  with  their 
hats  off,  moving  as  little  as  possible,  because  when 
they  did  the  dirt  slid  in. 

Mr.  Harbaugh  looked  around.  "Boys,  is  there 
anybody  here  who  knows  what  to  say  when  anybody 
is  buried?"  His  eye  went  around  the  circle;  one 
by  one  they  shook  their  heads  without  looking  at 
him.  "Ain't  there  anybody  here  who  can  say  a  few 
words  that  would  be  appropriate?" 

The  men  moved  uneasily.     Then  Slim  spoke. 

"I  ain't  a  preacher  and  never  associated  with  'em 
much,  but  when  a  square-deal  fellow  like  this  goes 
on  I  ain't  ashamed  to  say  what  I  think.  I  'ain't 
got  anything  to  read,  so  I  just  got  to  tell  what  I 
know.  Slade  thought  less  about  himself  and  more 
about  helping  others  than  anybody  I  know  of. 
Who  his  folks  was,  or  where  he  was  from,  I  don't 
know,  but  I  guess  I  know  who  some  of  his  friends 

i57 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

was.  Ain't  that  so,  Al?  Ain't  that  the  truth, 
Ed?"  Around  the  circle  he  asked  them,  and  they 
all  cleared  their  throats  and  said  it  was.  Then 
Slim  began  to  talk  about  Slade  as  if  he  was  a  friend 
that  had  just  stepped  out  of  the  room  for  a  while. 
Slim  wasn't  much  of  a  talker  about  the  weather 
and  if  it  would  rain  to-morrow,  but  now  he  had 
something  to  say  and  he  said  it.  The  men  began 
to  swallow  and  pretty  soon  they  were  reaching 
up  and  wiping  their  eyes  with  the  backs  of  their 
hands. 

"I  guess  there  ain't  one  of  us  here  that  Slade 
wouldn't  have  laid  down  his  life  for,  and  I  calc'late 
there  ain't  anything  bigger  a  person  can  do.  If  some- 
body could  say  that  about  me  when  I'm  through 
that  would  be  about  all  the  praise  I  would  want.  A 
few  days  ago  he  was  going  around  playing  a  French 
harp  and  patting  one  of  them  big  feet  of  his,  and  now 
he  is  in  the  ground.  I  don't  know  whether  we're 
ever  going  to  see  him  again  or  not.  I  ain't  up  on 
such  things,  but  I  don't  'low  I'm  going  to  worry 
very  much  about  it.  I  don't  know  where  he's 
going,  but  I'd  take  my  chances  on  going  to  the  same 
place  and  I  calc'late  that's  a  right  smart  compliment. 
I  got  a  French  harp  here  and  I  guess  Slade  would 
just  about  as  soon  that  we  played  that  as  anything. 
There  ain't  but  one  thing  I  know  so  I'll  have  to  play 
that." 

Rapping  out  the  dust,  Slim  cupped  his  hands  and 
began  to  play  "Baltimore  Gal."  The  men  threw 
the  dirt  in  with  their  skillets  while  Slim  played ;  then 
they  covered  the  grave  with  rocks  to  keep  the 

158 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

coyotes  away.  The  cottonwood  cross  with  his 
initials  cut  in  the  bark  was  propped  up  with  a 
little  mound  of  stones. 

Then  we  rode  away,  Blade's  empty  stirrups  turned 
over  the  saddle. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

It's  ail  right  to  save  a  lady's  life  if  you  don't  expect  too  much.    Some- 
times they  walk  off  with  their  back  as  stiff  as  a  ramrod. 

A3  we  forgot  Slade,  Slim  began  to  hang  around  the 
house  more  and  more.  Every  morning  he 
would  have  to  shave  and  put  brilliantine  on  his  hair. 
It  used  to  be  that  Slim  would  just  run  the  brass 
comb  through  his  hair  a  couple  of  times  and  he  would 
be  done.  But  not  any  more.  Now  he  had  to  comb 
and  comb. 

Bush  was  the  same  way.  He  was  aiways  having 
Bun  Wah  cut  his  hair  and  wax  his  mustache  with  a 
candle,  till  the  bunkhouse  began  to  look  like  a  barber 
shop. 

Slim  began  to  talk  about  the  lady.  "She's  a 
better  looker  than  I  thought  at  first.  She  ain't 
much  of  a  judge  of  men,  but  she's  got  a  good  laugh. 
This  morning  I  found  her  out  in  the  chicken  yard 
nestling  one  of  them  little  brown  chicks  against  her 
cheek  and  it  made  a  right  pretty  picture — only 
Bush  came  along  and  spoiled  it.  She  can't  stick 
her  head  outside  the  door  without  him  dartin'  down 
on  her  like  a  chicken-hawk.  It's  plumb  disgusting." 

"I  know  something  I  shine  at,"  said  Slim,  and 
began  practicing  up  with  his  rope  out  behind  the 

1 60 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

horse  corral.  He  would  swing  the  rope  around  his 
head,  giving  it  fancy  jerks  and  twists  while  he  jumped 
in  and  out.  He  would  make  two  ropes  go  at  the 
same  time,  one  with  a  big  loop  and  the  other  with  a 
small  one.  In  and  out  through  the  loops  he  would 
go,  jumping  back  and  forth,  his  spurs  rattling, 
singing  "Baltimore  Gal." 

"Pretty  good,  eh?  Kind  of  light  on  my  feet, 
wouldn't  you  say?  Look  at  that — two  at  once!  I 
guess  you  don't  see  that  every  day  of  the  week.  I 
always  been  handy  with  a  rope  and  I  'ain't  got  any 
reputation  for  being  heavy  on  my  feet  either." 

After  he  got  practiced  up  he  went  to  Miss  Hazle- 
ton.  "I  got  something  here  kind  of  interestin', 
lady.  It's  jumping  through  a  lasso.  If  you 
wanted  to  make  some  drawings  it'd  be  all  right 
with  me." 

"I  don't  want  to  inconvenience  you,  Mr.  Belcher. 
I  shall  be  very  careful  about  that." 

"It  won't  inconvenience  me,  lady.  Come  and  I'll 
show  you  how  it's  done." 

Getting  out  his  rope  Slim  began  swinging  it 
around  his  head,  letting  the  loop  get  bigger  and 
bigger. ' 

"No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Belcher.  You  needn't  feel 
called  on  to  entertain  me.  You  would  have  to  talk, 
and  that  is  something  you  know  you  dislike  doing." 

With  that  she  went  off  with  Bush  Millman  to 
sketch,  Bush  carrying  her  easel  as  if  it  was  a  setting 
of  eggs. 

"Drat  it,"  said  Slim  out  behind  the  scales,  "when 
I  was  driving  her  in  from  Hurrah  she  wouldn't  do 

161 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

anything  but  talk,  and  now  she  can't  say  half  a 
dozen  words  without  it  tiring  her  out.  Danged  if  I 
understand  'em." 

Sometimes  Slim  would  be  happy  and  gay  and  sing 
"Baltimore  Gal"  and  have  everybody  laughing 
with  his  ventriloquism,  and  the  next  day  he  would 
look  as  if  he  was  going  to  a  funeral.  Then  maybe 
before  night  he  would  be  blowing  away  on  his  French 
harp  and  patting  his  foot,  as  if  a  shadow  had  never 
crossed  his  life.  I  could  not  understand  him. 

The  next  day  he  might  say:  "Did  you  see  that 
last  night? — she  was  out  walking  with  him  in  the 
moonlight  and  laughing  together.  I  don't  know 
what  she  sees  in  that  old  chimpanzee.  Danged  if  I 
do." 

Slim  didn't  think  much  of  Bush.  I  could  see 
that.  Every  time  he  spoke  of  him  he  called  him 
something. 

' '  I  tell  you  it's  positively  wrong,"  said  Slim,  getting 
excited,  "for  a  nice,  sweet,  entertaining  girl  to  get 
infatuated  with  a  gorilla  like  that." 

Slim  threw  his  French  harp  away.  It  went  whis- 
tling through  the  air  playing  a  tune  that  got  fainter 
and  fainter  till  it  dropped  in  the  bunch  grass.  "I 
don't  want  the  dang  thing  any  more,"  he  said,  and 
went  back  and  rolled  himself  a  cigarette  with  both 
hands.  He  was  losing  his  pride.  "It  locoes  me  to 
see  her  looking  up  into  his  face  that  way — when  he 
'ain't  got  any  more  face  than  a  turkey  buzzard. 

"I  guess  I  got  to  do  it,"  he  said  one  day,  kind  of 
shuddering. 

"Do  what?" 

162 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Learn  poetry.  I  suppose  every  man's  got  to  do 
it  if  he  wants  to  get  anywhere  with  'em.  That 
chicken-hawk  went  out  walking  with  her  again  last 
night.  Poetry  ain't  my  line  and  I'd  just  as  soon  be 
shot,  but  I  suppose  it's  natural  for  women  to  want 
sentimental  things  that  way.  You  ask  Mrs.  Har- 
baugh  if  she's  got  a  poetry  book.  I  suppose  I  got 
to  come  to  it.  Don't  say  who  it's  for.  Just  ask 
her  if  she's  got  a  good  poetry  book  and  walk  off 
reading  it  yourself." 

Mrs.  Harbaugh  didn't  have  many  poetry  books, 
because  most  of  them  were  almanacs  and  what  to 
do  for  hoof  rot,  but  finally  she  found  one  over  the 
honey  bowl  to  keep  the  ants  out. 

The  book  had  an  oil-cloth  cover,  sewed  inside  so 
that  it  wouldn't  come  off.  Nobody  had  ever  read 
it  much. 

"There's  sure  been  a  lot  of  poetry  wrote  in  this 
world,"  said  Slim,  looking  through  the  book.  "What 
do  you  suppose  attracts  'em  most?  Something 
kind  of  sad,  I  guess." 

He  spread  the  book  out  on  his  knees.  "There's 
plenty  of  sad  ones  all  right.  Seems  as  if  they 
couldn't  write  anything  else.  Here's  a  right  pretty 
one.  'Flow  Gently,  Sweet  Afton.'  I  hate  to  do 
it,  but  you've  got  to  give  'em  what  they  want.  I 
wonder  what  Afton  was." 

Up  and  down  behind  the  corral  Slim  walked,  trying 
to  learn  the  poem,  shutting  the  book  upon  his 
thumb  and  trying  to  repeat  it,  and  throwing  his  gloves 
down  on  the  ground  and  stamping  on  them  when  he 
couldn't  think  of  the  word. 

163 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"It's  awfully  humiliatin' — but  it's  either  me  or 
that  bald-faced  owl." 

That  night  he  went  out  walking  with  her  with  his 
best  shirt  and  store  pants  on,  but  it  wasn't  very  long 
till  he  was  back  in  the  bunkhouse  danging  under  his 
breath. 

The  next  afternoon  he  handed  me  the  book. 
"Take  it  back.  Tell  her  you're  much  obliged,  but 
don't  dwell  on  it." 

"How  did  you  come  out?"  I  asked. 

"The  little  end.  I  guess  I  made  a  fool  of  myself 
all  right.  When  I  was  having  Sweet  Afton  flow  as 
gently  as  I  could  she  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed.  Then  she  called  her  pa  out  and  he  laughed, 
and  then  he  called  out  Mrs.  Harbaugh  and  then 
they  all  laughed.  There  ain't  any  more  use  in  me 
trying  to  be  a  gentleman  than  there  is  in  a  prairie- 
dog  trying  to  be  a  bloodhound.  I've  got  to  be 
natural.  I  suppose  she'll  be  out  sketching  pictures 
with  that  turtle-dove  this  afternoon." 

Word  began  to  get  out  that  Slim  had  recited 
poetry  to  a  girl,  and  pretty  soon  it  got  to  Bush.  It 
was  just  what  Bush  wanted.  He  waited  his  time 
till  one  day,  after  a  rain,  a  little  rivulet  showed  in 
the  yard. 

"Watch  out  there,"  said  Bush,  as  he  ran  swinging 
his  arms  and  jumping  as  if  it  had  been  the  Missis- 
sippi, "that  Afton  water's  mighty  tricky." 

The  horses  were  rounded  up  from  the  range  for 
the  men  to  break  new  ponies  from.  In  and  out 
among  them  the  men  rode,  looking  them  over  to 
get  the  ones  they  wanted,  because  each  rider  was 

164 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

proud  of  his  horses.  The  men  from  the  other 
ranches  were  there,  standing  inside  the  greasewood 
poles  of  the  corral,  yelling  and  throwing  their 
hats  when  a  rider  climbed  his  horse,  because  there 
is  nothing  more  exciting  than  picking  out  new 
mounts.  Around  and  around  the  lot  the  horses 
would  go,  leaping  and  squealing  and  coming  down 
stiff-legged. 

"What  you  going  to  name  your  cayuse,  Bush?", 
called  out  one  of  the  men  as  Bush  was  fastening  his 
double-cinch. 

Bush  looked  up  and  drew  the  back  of  his  hand 
across  his  mouth.  "I  was  thinkin'  of  calling  him 
'Sweet  Af ton.'" 

With  that  he  swung  on,  but  the  horse  didn't  do 
much  pitching.  It  just  walked  around  like  a  frozen- 
legged  rooster.  Then  Bush  fanned  him  with  his 
hat,  but  the  horse  didn't  get  up  much  spirit. 

Bush  slid  off  in  front  of  the  men  and  wiped  his 
mouth  again.  "I  knew  Sweet  Afton  flowed  gently, 
but  this  is  too  gentle  for  me.  I  want  something 
that  moves  a  little  swifter." 

The  men  pounded  their  hats,  because  they  knew 
what  he  meant,  while  Slim  pretended  to  be  busy 
with  his  rope.  He  looked  pretty  glum  and  dodged 
into  one  of  the  sheep  sheds  whenever  he  saw  the 
lady,  till  one  day  Mr.  Harbaugh  said:  "Boys,  we'd 
better  get  the  cattle  in  from  the  range  and  brand 
them  and  tally  them  over.  We  don't  know  how 
many  we  have  since  that  Snake  River  gang  got 
among  them." 

Slim  was  pleased.  "I  guess  this  is  where  I  shine. 
12  165 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

I  think  I'll  just  show  some  ol  the  people  around  here 
a  few  tricks  with  the  rope." 

The  men  were  called  in  from  the  other  ranches 
and  out  across  the  hills  we  rode  in  twos  and  threes 
with  our  tarpaulins  on  behind,  because  it  would 
take  several  days.  Speckled  here  and  there  on 
the  hills  we  could  see  the  cattle.  Sometimes  there 
would  be  one  longhorn  grazing  by  himself  and 
sometimes  there  would  be  half  a  dozen.  Off  they 
would  go  in  a  long  lope,  their  tails  streaming  out 
behind. 

When  we  got  to  the  other  side  of  the  range  we 
scattered  out  a  couple  of  miles  apart — just  far 
enough  apart  so  that  we  could  see  each  other.  Then 
the  drive  started.  We  were  in  sight  of  each  other 
so  that  we  could  see  if  any  of  the  cattle  tried  to 
break  back. 

As  we  were  closing  them  in  the  second  day  I 
looked  off  across  the  hills  and  in  every  direction 
there  were  cattle.  Like  ants,  they  were  moving 
in  and  out,  filing  down  long  ravines  and  spreading 
out  again  on  the  flats.  Sometimes  they  would  trot 
and  sometimes  they  would  mope  along,  but  always 
going  ahead — always  moving  toward  the  home 
ranch.  The  leaders  would  stop  and  paw  the  ground 
and  low,  but  it  wouldn't  do  any  good.  The  ones 
behind  would  shove  them  on.  Then  the  little  knot 
would  straighten  out  into  a  long,  winding  line. 
Everywhere  the  ants  were  moving — brown  ants  and 
black  ants — sometimes  churning  around  and  around 
and  sometimes  running  back,  but  always  moving 
ahead. 

166 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

When  we  were  close  enough  together  we  began  to 
call  back  and  forth.  We  sang  and  whistled  and 
made  noises  in  our  throats  and  popped  off  our  guns, 
because  always  the  cattle  must  be  kept  moving.  A 
long  brown  steer  with  horns  as  wide  as  buggy  shafts 
turned  and  started  back.  Before  I  knew  it  my 
pony  was  after  him,  turning  and  twisting  and  dodging 
till  I  had  to  hold  on  with  both  hands.  The  ground 
flowed  back  past  me  like  a  river,  the  wind  whistled 
in  my  ears  and  tears  stood  in  my  eyes.  The  steer 
stopped  and  my  pony  doubled  up  like  a  rabbit. 
Seizing  the  horn  I  held  on  with  both  hands,  not 
seeing  anything  but  the  ground  waving  up  and 
down  as  if  somebody  was  shaking  a  carpet.  The 
steer  turned  off  again,  the  pony  after  him.  Every- 
where the  steer  went  the  pony  was  at  his  side  heading 
him  off.  At  last  the  steer  stopped,  shook  his  head 
and  then  walked  back  toward  the  herd.  He  had 
had  enough. 

The  dust  began  to  rise  thicker  and  thicker,  while 
louder  and  louder  grew  the  bawling.  In  and  out 
among  the  herd  a  steer  would  walk  and,  working  his 
way  to  the  edge  of  the  herd,  he  would  look  a  moment 
at  the  nearest  guard,  then  turn  back  again.  Back 
through  the  others  he  would  go,  shoving  and  horn- 
ing his  way  till  he  came  out  on  the  other  side.  There 
he  would  stand  a  moment,  then  start  in  a  new 
direction. 

Overnight  we  held  them,  the  men  riding  around 
and  around  in  a  circle  to  keep  them  in.  At  daylight 
we  started  on  again. 

The  windmill,  buildings,  sheds,  and  corrals  of  the 

167 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

home  ranch  began  to  show  up.  Holding  the  cattle 
outside  we  began  cutting  out  the  calves  for  the 
branding  corral. 

"I'll  just  slip  over  to  the  house  and  see  if  any  of 
the  lady  folks  want  to  look  on,"  said  Slim.  Away 
he  loped,  his  back  stiff  and  straight,  because  he  was 
proud  of  his  roping.  There  wasn't  anybody  on  the 
C  Q  who  could  handle  a  rope  with  him  and  he 
knew  it. 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  out  and  watch  us?" 
he  asked,  in  his  politest  tone. 

Miss  Hazleton  smiled  brightly  an  instant,  then 
turned  her  head,  the  way  women  do.  "Thank  you. 
You  are  so  kind — but  Mr.  Millman  has  already 
invited  me." 

Slim  came  back  looking  glum.  His  back  wasn't 
so  stiff  and  straight  now. 

"I'll  be  danged,"  he  said.  "I  don't  get  'em. 
Millman  couldn't  rope  a  jack-rabbit  if  somebody 
held  its  legs." 

He  tried  to  sing  "Baltimore  Gal,"  but  he  didn't 
make  much  of  a  success  of  it. 

Mr.  Harbaugh  brought  out  a  couple  of  boxes  to 
sit  on  while  he  kept  count  in  his  tally-book  of  how 
many  were  branded.  He  sharpened  his  pencil  with 
his  long  knife,  closed  it  with  a  snap  and  Miss  Hazle- 
ton took  her  place  beside  him. 

One  of  the  men  from  the  east  ranch  had  the 
branding  fire  going,  because  a  fire  has  to  be  kept 
just  right. 

"All  right,  let  her  go,"  he  said  and  Slim  and  Bush 
rode  in,  swinging  their  loops.  Now  was  Slim's  time, 

168 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

because  Bush  didn't  know  any  more  about  a  rope 
than  he  did  about  a  necktie. 

"You  go  first  and  get  yours,"  said  Slim. 

Bush  rode  in,  loosening  his  noose,  but  he  wasn't 
holding  it  right.  He  should  have  had  his  palm  up. 

"Be  careful,"  called  Slim,  because  he  saw  what  was 
the  matter;  "don't  get  tangled  up  in  it  and  fall 
down — you  might  get  tromped  on." 

Bush  swung  his  arm.  The  noose  went  curling 
through  the  air  and  fell  flat. 

"Pull  it  back  quick,"  called  Slim,  "or  they  '11 
jerk  it  out  of  your  hands.  I  never  see  such  calves 
for  tryin'  to  get  a  man's  rope  away  from  him.  Some 
of  them  calves  in  there  'ain't  got  any  more  sense 
than  to  chew  it  up  and  swaller  it." 

The  men  at  the  branding  fire  laughed  and  Slim 
was  happy.  He  was  showing  Bush  up.  He  turned 
to  see  if  the  lady  was  watching,  and  she  was.  He 
touched  Calico.  Into  the  herd  he  dodged,  his 
pointed  ears  standing  up  trying  to  understand  which 
one  Slim  had  singled  out.  Slim  sat  forward  in  his 
saddle  and  his  hand  went  up.  It  gave  a  couple  of 
circles  over  his  head  and  then  his  wrist  gave  a  quick 
flip.  The  rope  went  twisting  and  writhing  through 
the  air  and  snapped  around  the  hind  legs  of  a  calf. 
Giving  the  rope  a  couple  of  hitches  around  the  horn 
Slim  leaned  over  in  the  other  stirrup.  The  rope 
tightened  and  the  calf  went  over  on  its  side.  Slim 
came  trotting  in  with  it. 

"Why  don't  you  do  it  that  way,  Bush?"  called 
Slim,  politely.  "It  saves  your  rope  from  being 
chewed  up." 

169 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  looked  at  the  lady  and  smiled.  His  time  had 
come. 

Two  men  grabbed  the  calf  and  flipped  it  over  on 
its  side  while  Slim  wound  the  rope  up  on  his  elbow 
looking  pretty  satisfied.  Behind  the  calf  the  bull- 
doggers  stood,  while  one  twisted  back  its  front  leg 
in  a  hammerlock  and  put  his  knee  on  its  neck. 
The  other  bull-dogger  seized  the  upper  hind  leg, 
braced  his  heel  behind  the  lower  one  so  that  the  calf 
couldn't  edge  itself  along  the  ground.  Then  both 
of  the  men  sat  down.  All  they  had  to  do  now  was 
to  hold  it. 

"Marker!"  called  Mr.  Harbaugh. 

Al  Gurney  bent  over  the  calf  with  the  nippers 
and  pressed  the  handle.  The  teeth  came  together 
and  a  white  spot  stood  in  the  calf's  ear.  Then  it 
began  to  turn  red.  Into  a  poke  Al  dropped  the 
piece  of  ear  to  check  up  with  the  tally-book  when 
we  got  through.  The  diamond  was  cut  in  the  top 
part  of  the  ear  because  when  a  calf  sees  anything  it 
stands  its  ears  up  straight  and  the  top  is  easy  to  see. 

"Iron!" 

The  fire-tender  seized  the  branding-iron.  Bending 
over  he  held  it  on  the  calf's  left  flank.  The  hair 
curled  up  and  a  little  thin  curl  of  smoke  went  twisting 
up.  Then  it  began  to  smell.  The  calf  began  to 
kick  and  throw  its  head,  but  it  didn't  do  any  good. 
The  men  had  him.  All  it  could  do  was  to  roll  the 
whites  of  its  eyes. 

The  men  rose  up. 

"For  that's  the  style  of  the  army,"  sang  one  of  the 
bull-doggers. 

170 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

The  calf  stood  looking  around  a  moment,  kind  of 
dazed,  then  trotted  out  of  the  corral  gate  lashing  its 
tail. 

Back  into  the  herd  Slim  rode  again,  then  sat 
forward  in  his  saddle.  His  hand  went  up,  his  wrist 
snapped,  and  the  rope  went  twisting  through  the 
air.  Another  calf  gave  a  short,  quick  bellow. 

When  we  stopped  for  dinner  Slim  was  pretty 
proud.  He  had  missed  only  three  throws  all 
morning. 

Coming  up  to  where  Miss  Hazleton  was  sitting  on 
the  box  he  hooked  a  knee  carelessly  over  the  saddle- 
horn  and  began  to  roll  a  cigarette  with  one  hand. 
"How  did  you  like  it?"  he  asked,  proudly. 

But  she  didn't  make  the  kind  of  answer  he 
expected. 

"I  think  it  is  awful.  I  never  saw  anything  so 
cruel." 

"Cruel? — how?"  asked  Slim,  surprised. 

"Cutting  pieces  out  of  their  ears  that  way — " 

"Why,  that  don't  hurt  them  any  more  than 
sticking  yourself  with  a  needle.  Just  a  little  sting 
and  it's  over." 

"It's  a  shame,  you  great  big  men  taking  advantage 
of  calves  that  way.  How  would  you  like  to  have 
somebody  cut  your  ears?" 

"Pshaw,  lady,  it's  all  over  in  a  minute." 

"So  it  would  be  with  you.  Then  that  awful 
burning  and  sizzling!" 

"A  calf  ain't  sensitive  like  you  or  me,  lady.  It 
don't  hurt  them  the  way  it  does  us." 

"Well,  suppose  it  hurts  them  only  half  as  much. 
171 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Would  you  want  half  an  iron  put  on  you?  It's 
criminal — that's  what  it  is.  And  you  sitting  there 
so  calmly  smoking  a  cigarette.  You  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself.  I  didn't  know  you  could  be 
so  heartless." 

Turning  on  her  heel  she  marched  off  toward  the 
house,  her  neck  as  stiff  as  a  poker. 

"Dang  it,"  said  Slim  as  he  was  washing  up  behind 
the  windmill,  "I  thought  I  was  getting  somewhere, 
and  here  all  the  time  I  was  going  backward.  I  sure 
don't  understand  'em." 

The  next  day  Slim  began  to  brighten  up  and  to 
hint  about  what  a  big  thing  it  was  to  save  her  life 
and  how  appreciative  she  ought  to  be.  Only  he 
didn't  say  it — he  just  hinted  it. 

"One  of  the  boys  was  just  sayin'  last  night  what 
a  big  risk  it  was — going  out  there  in  front  of  all 
those  steers  when  they  were  coming  head  on  and 
nothing  in  the  world  able  to  stop  them — and  pull- 
in'  you  out  from  under  them.  I  guess  a  lot  of 
fellows  would  have  got  light-headed  and  messed 
things  up — and  that  ain't  any  time  to  scramble 
things." 

"Father  and  I  are  very  appreciative,  Mr.  Belcher. 
But  if  I  remember  rightly  you  didn't  say  but  eleven 
words  all  the  rest  of  the  way  coming  home.  You 
acted  as  if  you  were  sorry  you  had  done  it.  Are 
you  ready,  Mr.  Millman?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know — Reddy's  calf,"  said  Bush, 
and  with  that  the  two  went  whirling  away  on  their 
ponies  to  do  some  sketching. 

Slim  stood  looking  after  them  till  they  had  gone 

172 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

over  the  slope.  Then  he  closed  his  mouth.  "Well, 
I'm  through  with  'em.  That's  my  final  word." 

Taking  out  Elva's  veil  from  the  folded  piece  of 
oil-cloth  he  threw  it  away.  Then  he  walked  over 
to  the  cook  shanty  to  see  if  he  couldn't  humor  Bun 
Wah  into  giving  him  something  to  eat.  I  knew  how 
he  felt  and  I  got  out  Addie's  shirt  and  looked  at  it. 
Think!  that  little  thing  had  once  covered  her  body. 
It  made  me  thrill  to  think  about  it,  but  I  kissed  it 
for  the  last  time  and  threw  it  away.  I  was  through 
with  them,  too. 

Then  I  caught  up  with  Slim  and  he  divided  his 
popover  with  me. 

Mr.  Harbaugh  called  him  to  the  house  that  evening 
and  when  he  came  back  Slim  was  looking 'happier. 
"I'm  glad  of  it, ' '  he  said.  * ' Mr.  Harbaugh's  sending 
me  out  to  open  up  the  water-holes  and  I'm  glad  of 
the  chance  of  getting  away  from  her." 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  any  trouble  keeping  away 
from  her,"  I  said. 

"You  know  what  I  mean.  I  just  can't  bear  to 
see  Millman  making  such  a  fool  of  himself." 

I  was  beginning  to  see  that  Slim  didn't  like  Bush. 
It  was  because  of  the  girl.  Some  people  see  things 
quick  and  some  slow.  Ihave  always  been  one  of  the 
former. 

"I've  got  an  idea,"  said  Slim  as  he  was  getting 
ready.  "Mr.  Hazleton  has  been  a  good  deal  in- 
terested in  them  bones.  You  come  with  me  and 
we'll  get  him  and  show  them  to  him.  Me  and  him 
are  good  friends.  There  ain't  anything  uppish 
about  him." 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Mr.  Hazleton  got  on  Redemption  slowly,  because 
Mr.  Hazleton  was  getting  fat  and  couldn't  handle 
himself  the  way  I  could.  I  could  have  one  foot  on 
the  ground,  take  hold  of  the  stirrup,  give  a  heave  and 
I  would  be  in  the  saddle.  I  was  naturally  limber. 
He  had  a  round  face  and  shaggy  eyebrows  and  the 
best  watch-chain  I  ever  saw — and  I've  seen  a  good 
many  of  them,  too. 

It  was  all  Slim  and  I  could  do  to  keep  from  laugh- 
ing— the  way  Mr.  Hazleton 's  arms  flopped  as  he 
rode.  But  we  treated  him  as  an  equal. 

We  hitched  our  ponies  to  the  earth. 

"I  don't  see  anything  around  here  that  looks  like 
bones  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Hazleton.  And  it  didn't, 
because  it  was  just  a  swale  with  grass  and  buck 
bushes  growing  around  and  once  in  a  while  some 
sand. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Slim,  and  began  scooping 
the  sand  back  with  his  skillet. 

Mr.  Hazleton  stood  with  his  arms  folded,  then  he 
began  to  bend  over.  Pretty  soon  he  got  down  on 
his  knees.  '  'By  George !  I  believe  you've  got  some- 
thing. That's  a  find.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do. 
I'll  wire  back  to  the  Museum  Board  in  New  York — 
they'll  want  to  know  about  this." 

Covering  the  place  up  the  way  it  was  before,  Mr. 
Hazleton  rode  off  toward  the  home  ranch  with  his 
elbows  flopping,  while  Slim  and  I  turned  toward  the 
water-holes. 

"Danged  if  I  understand  it,"  said  Slim.  "He's 
as  nice  a  sort  of  fellow  as  you'd  want  to  meet 
— common  as  an  old  shoe.  You  wouldn't  think 

i74 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

two  generations  would  differ  so  much,  would 
you?" 

When  we  came  to  a  water-hole  Slim  would  drop 
his  reins,  untie  the  spade  from  his  saddle,  and  open 
up  the  hole  where  the  cattle  had  trampled  it  in. 
Then  we  would  go  on  to  the  next  one. 

It  was  wonderful — being  out  on  the  prairies  that 
way  by  ourselves.  Sometimes  we  would  ride  all 
day  and  not  see  another  person.  Once  in  a  while 
we  would  pass  a  house  where  some  settler  had  tried 
to  farm,  but  the  drought  had  got  him.  Now  the  doors 
were  kept  closed  and  one  room  piled  with  wood  so 
that  if  you  got  caught  when  there  was  a  blizzard 
you  could  go  inside  and  keep  from  freezing  to 
death. 

Over  on  the  peak  of  one  of  the  hills  rings  were 
going  up  to  the  sky,  twisting  in  and  out  as  if  some 
giant  was  pitching  at  a  cane  rack. 

"Indian  signals  again,"  said  Slim. 

As  we  watched  other  faint  rings  rose  up.  Slim 
turned  his  eye  around.  "They're  answering  over 
there.  They're  doing  a  lot  of  talking  lately." 

In  the  distance  was  a  grove  of  trees,  but  as  we 
came  closer  we  saw  that  it  was  an  Indian  burying- 
ground.  The  bodies  were  fastened  in  the  trees, 
swinging  by  rawhide  thongs,  while  on  the  ground 
tall  thin  poles  held  other  bodies  up.  The  poles 
were  tied  together  with  buckskin,  as  they  didn't 
have  any  nails.  On  top  of  the  covers  over  the  bodies 
food  had  been  placed  for  them  to  eat  while  on  their 
journey  to  the  happy  hunting-ground.  But  the 
birds  had  taken  most  of  it  and  in  some  places  the 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

buzzards  had  pecked  and  pulled  at  the  covers 
trying  to  get  at  the  bodies  inside.  Everywhere  we 
could  see  where  the  buzzards  had  roosted  waiting 
for  the  time. 

One  litter  was  particularly  big — double.  "A 
chief  and  his  squaw,"  said  Slim.  "When  he  died 
they  killed  her  and  put  her  body  beside  his." 

It  made  me  serious  and  thoughtful  to  look  at  all 
that  was  left  of  those  Indians.  Once  they  had 
walked  around  and  thought  themselves  so  important, 
and  now  they  were  nothing  but  temptation  to  buz- 
zards. But  it  didn't  make  the  ponies  feel  that  way. 
They  went  on  eating  just  the  same  and  once  in  a 
while  snorting.  Who  could  say  but  that  after  all 
horses  were  happiest?  They  never  dreaded  any- 
thing and  never  worried  about  anything,  and  here  I 
was  always  worrying  about  dying  and  what  would 
become  of  me.  I  would  wake  up  in  the  night  and 
think  about  dying  and  put  my  hand  on  my  pulse 
and  it  wouldn't  be  there.  My  heart  would  be 
stopped.  My  mouth  would  be  dry  and  there  would 
be  a  ringing  in  my  ears  and  I  could  feel  my  toes 
turning  black  and  my  limbs  growing  cold.  Then 
just  as  I  would  think  I  was  dead  I  would  find  my 
pulse  again.  But  I  couldn't  wake  anybody  up  and 
tell  them  about  it  because  they  would  laugh  at  me. 
What  would  become  of  me  in  the  next  world?  I 
would  be  pretty  hopeful  at  first,  then  I  would  get  to 
thinking  about  the  things  I  had  done  in  secret  and 
never  told  anybody,  and  then  I  would  know  where  I 
was  going.  I  would  be  with  Hoot  Howden. 

' ' We'd  better  shove  on, "  said  Slim.  "It's  getting 

176 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

pretty  late.  If  my  eyes  ain't  playing  me  a  trick 
there's  one  of  them  settler  cabins  over  there  ahead." 
He  pointed  and  away  over  against  the  sky,  looking 
about  as  big  as  an  organ  box,  I  could  see  something. 
We  rode  toward  it. 


CHAPTER  XV 

Out  on  the  prairies  you  can  get  away  front  women,  but  there  are  other 
troubles.  Life  is  that  way.  No  sooner  do  you  get  rid  of  one  thing 
than  something  else  comes  up.  Then  the  tom-toms  begin  to  beat. 

'T'HE  cabin  door  was  shut,  but  the  buckskin  latch- 
•*•  string  was  hanging  outside. 

"I  feel  sorry  for  these  people  sometimes,"  said 
Slim.  ' '  They  come  out  here  in  a  covered  wagon  with 
an  extra  horse  behind,  expecting  to  get  rich.  They 
put  all  they've  got  into  a  house  and  into  laying  out 
a  little  land,  thinking  next  summer  they'll  strike  it, 
but  they  never  do.  The  drought  gets  them,  or  some- 
times they  go  mad,  and  you  see  them  taking  them  to 
the  train  tied  to  a  feather-tick.  Their  women  folks 
get  sick  and  a  couple  of  the  children  die,  and  then 
they  give  it  up  and  once  more  the  covered  wagon 
begins  to  move." 

The  pole  stable  had  fallen  in,  but  the  well  in  the 
yard  was  in  good  shape.  It  was  not  a  boxed  well, 
but  rocked  in.  A  windlass  brought  the  bucket  up 
and  down,  with  a  peg  to  stop  the  handle  from  turning. 

The  half-barrel  had  fallen  to  pieces,  so  we  had  t<? 
water  the  horses  out  of  our  hats. 

Taking  off  our  saddles  we  hobbled  the  horses, 
staking  them  out  with  a  rope  around  the  hind  foot. 

178 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Polling  some  prairie  grass  for  a  bed  we  pushed  open 
the  door  and  went  in.  The  last  person  who  had  been 
there  had  washed  up  the  pans  and  put  them  back  on 
the  nails  where  they  belonged,  so  we  would  have  to 
do  the  same.  We  scattered  the  hay  on  the  floor, 
piled  our  blankets  on  it  and  curled  up. 

There  were  a  good  many  crickets  and  peepers 
talking  away  outside,  the  noise  rising  and  falling, 
and  going  up  and  down  in  waves,  sometimes  sounding 
away  off  and  sometimes  up  close.  Once  in  a  while 
a  horse  would  blow  through  its  nose  and  the  house 
would  creak,  because  it  was  now  cooling  off,  but 
gradually  it  got  still,  and  there  is  nothing  stiller  than 
a  house  away  off  by  itself  on  the  prairies. 

It  was  a  good  time  to  do  a  little  thinking.  I  was 
getting  so  I  liked  to  think.  It  seemed  to  come 
natural  with  me.  I  didn't  have  to  force  it  or  any- 
thing. I  would  just  kind  of  stretch  out  and  shut 
my  eyes  and  the  thoughts  would  come.  If  I  had 
been  gifted  with  poetry  I  could  have  written  some 
good  poems,  because  I  had  plenty  of  thoughts.  But 
a  person  can't  do  everything.  I  would  rather  be  a 
thinker. 

It  was  wonderful.  Here  I  was  away  out  on  the 
prairies  in  a  cabin  that  some  farmer  had  deserted 
because  he  couldn't  make  a  go  of  it,  and  nobody  in 
the  world  knew  where  I  was  except  Slim — and  he 
was  beginning  to  snore.  I  was  getting  to  be  some- 
body. Hoot  Howden  was  probably  crawling  into 
bed  with  his  little  squally  sister. 

After  a  while  I  woke  up  with  a  feeling  that  some- 
thing was  wrong.  I  put  out  my  hand  and  Slim  was 

179 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

there.  Then  I  felt  of  my  pulse.  Tt  was  beating — 
I  was  still  alive.  Everything  seemed  all  right,  but  I 
could  not  get  rid  of  the  feeling.  One  of  the  horses 
whinnied  again — a  short,  nervous  whinny.  Then  I 
saw  a  light  on  the  wall  coming  in  through  the  chinks 
where  some  of  the  mud  was  beginning  to  fall  off.  It 
flickered  a  moment,  then  died  down,  like  lighting  a 
match  in  another  room.  Then  both  horses  whinnied. 

I  shook  Slim.     "Wake  up — something's  wrong." 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  saw  a  light  flickering." 

When  he  heard  the  whinnying  of  the  horses  he 
hurried  to  the  door.  Away  off  in  the  distance  the 
sky  was  aglow  as  if  some  city  was  over  there.  The 
light  rose  up  again,  then  went  down  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hills. 

"The  prairie's  on  fire!"  said  Slim.  "That's  what 
those  Indian  signals  meant!" 

Birds  began  coming  by,  some  of  them  flying 
silently  with  just  the  rush  of  their  wings,  some 
calling  to  each  other.  Rabbits  darted  away  with 
their  white  tails  bobbing  in  the  night.  To  ride  over 
the  prairies  in  the  daytime  there  seemed  to  be  no 
animals,  but  now  the  whole  prairies  were  moving. 
Everywhere  we  could  see  the  black  outlines  of  the 
animals  running  before  the  fire.  Deer  and  prairie 
wolves  were  running  along  side  by  side.  There  was 
now  a  bigger  enemy.  By  us  they  sped,  paying  no 
more  attention  to  us  than  if  we  had  not  been  there. 

Cattle  went  rushing  by  us,  lowing. 

"They've  set  the  prairies  on  fire  to  get  the  calves 
that  are  knocked  down,"  said  Slim. 

180 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

One  moment  it  would  be  light,  then  the  next  it 
would  go  down.  We  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  fire 
as  the  wind  swept  it  along.  A  night-hawk  flashed 
by  me,  its  wings  brushing  my  face.  It  did  not  even 
squeak. 

"If  it  hits  us  we  are  goners,"  said  Slim.  "We've 
got  to  start  a  backfire.  Begin  drawing  water." 

In  a  moment  he  came  out  with  our  blankets  and 
kneeling  down  ripped  a  match  along  his  pants. 
The  flames  wavered  a  moment,  then  took  hold. 

"Now  you  throw  water  on  the  house  while  I  beat 
the  fire  back." 

Wetting  a  blanket  he  began  whipping  the  blaze 
back,  while  I  carried  water  in  my  hat.  The  fire 
swept  nearer.  Around  and  around  their  pickets  the 
horses  swept,  spreading  their  nostrils  and  pawing 
at  the  ground.  The  roar  came  closer  while  the  dry 
clumps  of  bunch  grass  stood  out  like  torches. 

Into  the  side  of  the  house  an  antelope  dashed, 
falling  over  stunned.  A  moment  it  lay,  then  got  up, 
trying  to  keep  on  in  the  same  direction.  Along  the 
wall  it  worked  its  way,  falling  and  rising,  till  it  got 
to  the  corner.  Then  it  hobbled  away.  But  it  was 
too  badly  crippled — the  fire  would  overtake  it.  In 
the  fire  nothing  could  live.  The  blaze  would  be 
sucked  into  the  animal's  lungs  and  then  it  would  be 
dead.  Its  flesh  would  pop  open.  The  coyotes 
would  return  next  day,  picking  and  sniffing  their  way 
among  the  embers  till  they  got  to  it.  After  they 
left  a  buzzard  would  come  sailing  down  out  of  the 
sky  and  soon  all  that  would  be  left  would  be  the 
white  bones  on  the  blackened  prairies. 
13  181 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Brighter  and  brighter  the  light  grew,  faint  waves 
of  heat  reaching  us.  Around  and  around  the  horses 
went,  their  legs  stretched  out  when  they  got  to  the 
end  of  the  rope.  Then  there  was  a  snap  and  away 
they  went,  the  picket  pins  flopping  behind  them. 
Slim  staggered  a  moment,  then  righted  himself. 

"That's  all  right,  pardner — we  ain't  dead  yet. 
The  fire's  beginning  to  catch  in  the  roof.  Give  us  a 
boost  and  I'll  get  up." 

I  carried  him  the  water  while  he  threw  it  on, 
stopping  to  slap  out  the  sparks  on  his  shirt.  For 
miles  around  the  fire  was  sweeping  toward  us,  leaving 
only  blackened  ruin  behind.  Louder  grew  the  roar 
of  the  fire,  while  the  slow-moving  animals  began 
coming  by.  Against  the  light  we  could  see  their 
forms  rising  and  falling.  Ordinarily  they  would  be 
fighting  each  other,  but  now  they  were  running  side 
by  side.  Snakes  went  wriggling  through  the  dry 
grass  hunting  their  holes.  A  coyote  with  two  young 
ones  begging  and  whining  at  her  side  came  up.  A 
moment  she  paused  at  the  cabin  door,  then  pushed  in 
without  paying  any  attention  to  me. 

Faster  and  faster  I  turned  the  windlass.  Leaping 
down  from  the  roof  Slim  carried  water  in  his  hat, 
dashing  it  against  the  side  of  the  cabin.  His  hair 
was  plastered  to  his  head  from  perspiration,  his  white 
skin  showing  through  his  shirt  where  the  sparks  had 
eaten  through. 

Louder  and  louder  grew  the  roaring.  Bending 
over  Slim  cupped  his  hands.  "It's  beginning  to 
look  kind  of  unsettled.  Our  only  chance  is  the 
water-hole.  Get  your  blanket  and  come." 

182 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Across  the  stretch  we  ran,  Slim's  long  legs  flopping. 

"Wet  your  blanket  and  throw  yourself  on  your 
face.  Breathe  through  your  nose." 

The  wall  of  fire  came  roaring  toward  us.  A  bush 
standing  still  and  gray  would  suddenly  leap  into 
flames.  My  blanket  began  to  smoke.  Slim  was 
calling  out  something,  but  the  roar  drowned  what  he 
was  trying  to  say.  The  fire  swept  by.  Over  the 
hills  it  went,  leaving  the  blackened  earth  behind. 

Fire  was  beginning  to  blaze  in  the  walls  of  the 
cabin.  Rushing  back  Slim  began  beating  at  the 
sparks  with  his  blanket.  One  by  one  he  got  the 
patches  out,  while  over  the  hills  the  fire  swept,  some- 
times leaping  up,  sometimes  creeping  along  the 
ground.  Then  blackness  began  to  settle  down. 
The  coyote  with  her  two  cubs  sidled  out  the  door  and 
disappeared  into  the  night. 

Morning  came,  the  sun  creeping  down  from  the 
tops  of  the  cottonwoods  as  if  nothing  was  the 
matter.  Across  the  blackened  prairies  came  the 
deer  and  antelope  picking  their  way  among  the 
still  smoking  clumps.  At  sight  of  us  they  swept 
away.  The  night  before  they  had  passed  us  with- 
out turning  their  heads;  now  they  were  natural 
again. 

Slim  looked  like  a  singed  rat.  His  eyebrows 
were  gone  and  patches  from  his  hair  were  missing. 

I  had  been  getting  tired  of  salt  pork,  because,  no 
difference  how  you  cook  it,  it  tastes  just  about  the 
same,  but  now  for  breakfast  it  tasted  pretty  good. 

"It  sure  does  make  a  fellow  drink,"  said  Slim, 
bringing  up  another  bucket  of  water  from  the  well. 

183 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Then  he  bent  over  and  his  Adam's  apple  began  to 
bob  up  and  down.  I  never  saw  anybody  with  an 
Adam's  apple  that  was  more  expressive. 

From  his  pocket  Slim  pulled  his  remembrance,  and 
I  did  mine,  because  we  could  not  throw  them  away 
for  good.  They  were  wet  and  dirty  from  lying  in 
the  water-hole,  so  we  washed  them  out  in  our  hats 
and  hung  them  on  the  side  of  the  cabin  to  dry. 
It  made  me  gulp  to  see  them  fluttering  there  side 
by  side,  and  Slim's  Adam's  apple  began  to  go  up 
and  down,  too.  How  happy  we  had  been  once! 
But  now,  alas!  all  was  over. 

"We  sort  of  got  things  to  ourselves,"  said  Slim, 
after  a  bit.  "I  guess  there  ain't  another  person  in 
forty  miles.  I'll  go  out  and  see  if  I  can  locate  the 
horses.  If  I  don't,  as  near  as  I  can  figure  it  out 
we'll  have  to  do  quite  a  bit  of  hoofing.  You  wash 
up  the  things  and  put  them  back,  because  that  is 
etiquette." 

Off  across  the  blackened  hills  Slim  started,  stop- 
ping now  and  then  to  kick  at  a  clump  of  bunch  grass 
that  was  still  smoldering.  After  I  had  washed  the 
things  up  I  sat  down  on  the  door-step  and  looked  off 
across  the  plains.  How  it  had  changed !  Yesterday 
it  was  gray  and  glistening — now  it  was  dark  and 
dirty.  The  cottonwoods,  stripped  of  their  leaves, 
looked  as  wilted  as  weeds  before  a  fire. 

Just  wait  till  I  get  back  and  tell  Hoot  Howden 
and  Scoop  Gooden  and  some  of  them  about  my 
adventures!  Wouldn't  I  make  their  eyes  bulge  out! 
Only  I  would  paint  it  up  a  little.  I  would  have  the 
cabin  packed  with  wolves,  and  then  a  lot  of  deer 

184 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

crowd  in  and  all  stand  there  licking  each  other, 
never  thinking  about  eating  each  other.  Then  a 
mother  wolf  would  come  up  with  a  cub  trotting  at 
her  side  and  another  one  in  her  mouth.  This  one 
would  be  too  weak  to  walk.  I  would  push  the  deer 
and  antelopes  over  and  make  room  for  her  and  give 
her  weakly  cub  something  to  eat.  When  the  fire 
was  over  the  animals  would  dash  away,  beginning  to 
snap  at  each  other — all  except  the  mother  wolf  with 
her  two  cubs.  After  a  while  she  would  go  away  and 
I  would  think  she  was  gone  for  good,  but  she  would 
return  with  her  husband  and  he  would  lick  my  hand 
for  saving  his  family's  life.  The  husband  would 
lope  away,  but  the  mother  would  stay  and  I  would 
plat  her  a  collar  and  she  would  follow  me  around. 
I  would  be  the  first  person  ever  to  tame  a  wolf.  I 
guess  that  would  make  them  look  up  to  me! 

I  sat  there  with  my  head  in  my  hand,  thinking. 
That  is  my  favorite  way  for  thinking,  although  I 
can  think  in  any  position  that  you  put  me  in.  Then 
I  saw  something  across  the  plain.  As  it  came 
nearer  it  got  plainer,  and  then  I  saw  that  it  was  half 
a  dozen  men  on  horses.  It  was  probably  some  of 
the  men  from  the  C  Q  out  to  see  how  the  cattle  had 
got  through  the  fire.  I  guess  they  would  be  sur- 
prised to  see  me.  I  would  tell  them  all  about  it 
and  paint  it  up  a  little,  because  Slim  was  not  much  of 
a  hand  to  talk  about  anything  that  way.  When  I 
got  through  they  would  know  that  it  was  a  pretty 
serious  thing. 

Then  as  I  looked  I  saw  that  they  were  not  riding 
along  side  by  side,  but  one  behind  the  other  in  single 

185 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

file.  They  were  Indians.  And  they  were  coming 
toward  the  cabin.  What  should  I  do?  There 
were  only  two  rooms  in  the  cabin  and  no  place  to 
hide.  I  would  crawl  under  the  cabin,  but  it  was 
too  low.  There  was  no  use  to  crawl  off  to  hide,  be- 
cause there  was  no  grass  now  and  no  other  buildings. 
The  pole  stable  had  gone  up  in  the  fire. 

The  well !  I  would  go  down  in  it.  Getting  down 
on  my  stomach  I  crawled  over  to  the  curb  and  taking 
out  the  pin  lowered  the  bucket .  Down  the  rope  I 
slid  and  put  one  foot  in  the  bucket. 

A  horse  snorted  the  way  it  does  when  it  comes  up 
to  a  strange  place,  then  I  could  hear  Indians  talking 
in  their  own  language.  Then  the  cabin  door  scraped 
on  the  floor.  I  was  glad  I  had  put  the  dishes  and 
pans  back  on  the  nails  where  they  belonged,  because 
they  wouldn't  think  that  anybody  was  here.  Then 
pretty  soon  I  smelt  the  smoke.  They  had  found 
the  meat  and  were  cooking  themselves  something  to 
eat. 

It  was  hard  work  standing  in  the  bucket  so  I 
changed  to  the  other  foot  and  waited.  Then  I 
heard  them  coming  out,  once  in  a  while  grunting, 
because  their  talk  is  mostly  grunts.  Their  ponies 
stepped  around  as  the  Indians  swung  themselves  up. 
In  a  moment  they  would  be  gone. 

Then  I  felt  the  rope  jiggle.  One  of  them  had 
come  back  for  a  drink.  The  salt  pork  was  getting  in 
its  work. 

The  rope  jiggled  again  and  he  began  to  pull  me 
up.  I  caught  hold  of  the  stones,  but  they  only  tore 
my  hands.  It  was  pretty  hard  pulling,  because  I 

186 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

weighed  more  than  a  bucket  of  water.  He  bent  over 
to  look  down,  but  it  was  too  dark  for  him  to  see. 
Giving  a  grunt  he  started  pulling  on  the  rope  again, 
while  the  wooden  roller  squeaked.  Up  I  moved,  the 
Indian  grunting  every  time  he  gave  a  heave.  I  was 
the  heaviest  bucket  of  water  he  had  ever  lifted. 

Then  up  into  his  face  I  popped.  He  was  the 
most  astonished  Indian  I  ever  saw.  His  eyes  batted 
and  he  had  to  swallow.  He  wasn't  expecting  any- 
thing like  me.  Then  as  I  looked  at  him  I  began  to 
swallow,  too,  because  it  was  Head  Wind. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  greasy  coat  and  trousers,  with 
a  long  black  crow's  feather  in  his  hair.  Slowly  his 
face  broke  into  a  horrible  grin,  his  yellow  teeth 
showing.  His  fingers  opened  and  he  jerked  me  out 
of  the  bucket.  "Him  throw  water  on  Head  Wind. 
Now  Head  Wind  throw  water."  Picking  up  the 
bucket  he  drenched  me.  Then  he  slapped  me. 
"Him  plenty  big  fool." 

I  staggered  back  into  the  arms  of  a  young  Indian 
who  was  the  most  likely  looking  one  in  the  bunch. 

Turning  to  the  other  Indian  Head  Wind  began 
to  explain  how  I  had  thrown  water  on  him.  Greasy 
and  dirty  they  were,  wearing  our  clothes  all  except 
moccasins.  These  they  wore  so  that  they  could 
get  around  without  anybody  hearing  them.  Across 
their  arms  they  carried  rifles  with  cartridges  stuffed 
in  their  pockets. 

"Come  'long,"  said  Head  Wind.  "Head  Wind 
time  now." 

On  to  their  horses  they  sprang  with  the  easy 
motion  of  Indians  and  were  about  to  ride  away 

187 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

when  Head  Wind  stopped.  His  eye  had  caught 
Elva's  veil  and  Addie's  shirt  fluttering  on  the  side 
of  the  building.  From  the  pony  Head  Wind  slipped 
and  taking  the  veil  in  his  dirty  fingers  he  put  it  to 
his  eyes  and  began  to  simper.  Horrible  faces  he 
made  trying  to  imitate  a  woman,  while  the  other 
Indians  laughed.  "Nice  squaw,"  he  grunted. 

Then  he  tried  to  put  on  Addie's  shirt,  stretching 
up  his  arms  and  trying  to  get  into  the  little  thing. 
It  made  me  burn.  Never  had  it  had  anything  in  it 
but  her  little  body  and  now  he  was  trying  to  put  it 
on.  If  I  only  had  a  gun — it  would  be  the  last  time 
he  would  ever  insult  a  lady.  The  shirt  ripped  and 
then  he  folded  it  up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
"Little  squaw,"  he  grunted,  "where  go?" 
I  pointed  off  across  the  prairies.  "Home." 
They  began  to  jabber,  moving  over  the  ground 
and  examining  it.  They  shook  their  heads — they 
would  lie  in  wait.  Two  of  them  led  their  ponies  to 
a  coulee  and  in  the  deep  gully  left  them.  Coming 
back  to  the  cabin  with  their  guns  across  their  arms, 
they  went  in  and  punched  out  some  of  the  chinking 
with  their  fingers.  Through  the  narrow  slits  they 
could  see  in  every  direction. 

Into  the  house  Duff  followed  them,  and  I  was  glad 
of  it.  He  would  be  there  to  give  the  signal  when 
Slim  came.  But  in  a  moment  there  was  a  scratching 
of  toe-nails  and  out  he  came  with  the  Indians  striking 
at  him  with  their  guns. 

"Him  come  with  us,"  said  Head  Wind,  his  face 
breaking  into  a  smile.  "Him  make  plenty  niceum 
eat." 

188 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

On  to  the  pony  Head  Wind  put  me  and  then 
swung  up  behind.  Away  we  rode  in  single  file, 
trotting  rapidly,  with  the  young  Indian  in  advance. 
As  we  went  out  of  sight  I  turned  and  looked  back.  A 
blue  twist  of  smoke  was  going  up  from  the  cabin. 
Slim  would  walk  into  the  trap.  With  that  we  went 
down  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  and  the  cabin  was 
lost  from  sight. 

Along  we  trotted,  the  Indians  turning  their  heads 
from  side  to  side  on  the  watch.  Off  in  the  distance 
signal  fires  were  going  up. 

Around  the  back  of  my  neck  Head  Wind  put  his 
long  fingers.  Slowly  they  closed.  "Plenty  soon," 
he  said. 

The  land  as  we  traveled  grew  rougher  and  rougher. 
Cedar  and  blackened  pine  began  to  show  with  narrow 
trails  leading  among  them.  We  were  going  into  the 
foothills. 

An  Indian  village,  as  we  came  into  a  valley,  stood 
out.  There  were  twenty  or  thirty  tepees.  Poles 
ten  or  twelve  feet  tall,  with  the  bottoms  spread  out, 
came  together  at  the  top  and  around  these  canvas 
was  fastened,  or  sometimes  skins,  with  a  flap  turned 
back  for  them  to  go  in  and  out.  At  the  top  a  hole 
was  left  for  the  smoke.  Squaws  with  blankets  over 
their  shoulders  were  carrying  wood  for  the  fires. 
Dirtier  and  greasier  than  the  men  they  were.  On 
their  backs  some  of  them  carried  papooses,  while 
dogs  stood  with  their  noses  pointed  at  the  pots 
waiting  for  the  squaws  to  take  their  eyes  off  for  a 
moment.  Two  Indians  were  dressing  a  deer  and 
when  they  would  throw  some  part  away  that  they 

189 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

did  not  want  the  dogs  would  dash  at  it,  snarling  and 
fighting.  At  our  side  Duff  trotted,  keeping  away 
from  the  snarling  pack. 

Around  us  the  Indians  crowded,  while  Head  Wind 
jabbered  away,  telling  how  I  had  thrown  water  on 
him  and  how  he  was  going  to  have  his  revenge.  He 
was  proud  of  his  capture.  Getting  out  Addie's 
shirt  he  showed  how  it  was  worn,  while  the  squaws 
reached  out  their  black  hands  to  feel  of  it.  Then 
he  put  Elva's  veil  over  his  eyes,  turning  his  head 
from  side  to  side  and  making  eyes  and  trying  to  be 
ladylike. 

Around  the  pots  the  Indians  squatted,  reaching 
in  and  picking  out  the  meat  with  their  fingers, 
changing  it  from  one  hand  to  the  other  till  it  got 
cool,  while  the  dogs  waited,  darting  in  whenever  a 
bone  was  tossed  aside.  I  had  thought  Slim's  salt 
pork  was  strong,  but  it  wasn't  anything  to  Indian 
meat. 

As  soon  as  supper  was  over  the  fires  were  put  out. 
They  were  not  allowed  to  burn  out  gradually,  but 
the  embers  were  scattered  about.  Then  a  guard  was 
posted.  I  began  to  see  that  something  was  wrong. 

Into  a  tepee  Head  Wind  took  me  and  with  a  piece 
of  buckskin  tied  me  to  him  by  the  ankle.  Then  he 
drew  his  blanket  over  his  head,  leaving  me  an  old 
wolf  hide  for  cover.  Two  other  Indians  pulled  back 
the  flap  and  crawled  in  beside  us,  talking  and  grunt- 
ing. I  had  never  known  Indians  to  be  so  talkative. 
They  were  pleased  over  something. 

At  last  they  fell  asleep.  Sitting  up  I  slid  my  hand 
down  to  my  ankle  and  began  to  loosen  the  thongs. 

190 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

But  suddenly  Head  Wind  sat  up  and  his  fingers 
went  around  my  throat.  I  began  to  kick.  The 
other  two  Indians  were  awakened  and  at  last  pulled 
Head  Wind's  hands  away. 

In  the  morning  the  tepees  were  torn  down  and 
the  poles  that  had  been  used  to  hold  them  up  were 
made  by  the  squaws  into  a  long  drag.  A  pole  was 
fastened  on  each  side  of  a  horse,  as  if  the  two  were 
a  pair  of  shafts  with  one  end  dragging  on  the  ground. 
The  tents  were  piled  on  the  poles  and  just  as  the  sun 
was  coming  up  the  village  began  to  move  across  the 
plain. 

Again  I  was  put  on  Head  Wind's  pony,  while 
alongside  Duff  trotted,  once  in  a  while  looking  up  at 
me  and  whining.  When  we  would  stop  he  would  sit 
with  his  nose  pointed  up  at  me.  The  Indian  dogs 
came  swarming  around  him,  snapping  and  showing 
their  teeth.  Ordinarily  Duff  was  a  fighter,  but  now 
he  knew  that  something  was  wrong  and  did  not 
answer  back. 

That  afternoon  another  village  joined  us.  A 
scout  came  bringing  them  in.  They  made  signs 
back  and  forth  with  their  hands  and  then  when  they 
got  up  close  enough  they  began  to  talk.  They  were 
pleased  about  something,  too.  Other  villages  joined 
us,  more  and  more  coming,  but  before  night  they 
broke  up,  because  game  was  getting  scarce.  All  the 
Indians  had  guns  and  spent  a  good  deal  of  time 
cleaning  them.  They  were  drinking,  because  boot- 
leggers had  been  selling  them  whisky. 

The  Indians  began  to  sing.  It  is  not  often  that 
Indians  sing.  Where  were  all  the  Indians  going? 

191 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Where  were  they  moving?  What  were  they  going 
to  do  with  me?  I  had  a  good  deal  to  think  about. 

That  evening  the  biggest  camp  of  all  was  pitched. 
More  and  more  of  them  came  in.  Head  Wind  made 
a  motion  around  the  top  of  my  head  and  gurgled. 
More  than  a  hundred  tepees  were  now  in  the  vil- 
lage. In  every  tepee  was  a  family  and,  especially, 
young  bucks. 

The  foothills  became  rougher  and  wilder  and  the 
next  evening  we  came  into  a  camp  with  tepees 
stretched  away  in  every  direction.  They  filled  the 
whole  valley.  The  Indians  had  come  together  from 
all  parts  of  the  country.  Fires  were  going  all  up  and 
down  the  valley,  with  black  forms  coming  and  going 
in  front  of  them.  Pots  were  emptied  for  the  dogs 
and  into  the  mess  they  went  with  wild  howlings,  and 
then  the  squaws  began  carrying  wood.  A  circle  of 
fires  was  started  with  the  blazes  leaping  up  as  the 
squaws  piled  on  the  brush.  In  the  middle  of  the 
circle  a  pole  was  put  up  with  leather  thongs  leading 
from  the  top  of  it  to  about  the  height  of  the  men's 
shoulders.  A  low  beating  began  to  sound — tom- 
toms. Then  I  knew  what  it  was.  It  made  me 
shudder,  because  the  Sun  Dance  was  held  but  for 
one  purpose.  The  men  came  leaping  and  dancing 
up  with  war-paint  on.  The  Indians  were  getting 
ready  for  an  uprising  against  the  whites.  The 
preaching  of  Mike  Grass  had  taken  effect.  I  was 
the  first  prisoner  and  would  be  disposed  of  by 
Head  Wind. 

On  the  ground  the  musicians  knelt,  beating  their 
tom-toms  with  their  knuckles.  An  Indian  with  a 

192 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

band  of  dead  frogs  around  his  waist  was  thumping  a 
drum  made  out  of  a  buffalo  hide.  A  medicine-man 
was  leaping  through  a  fire  and  falling  in  a  faint  as  he 
told  what  the  spirits  said.  He  was  making  medicine 
and  preparing  the  men  for  the  ordeal  of  the  dance. 
One  by  one  the  Indian  men  came  up  and  stood 
stiff  and  straight  before  him  without  any  expression 
on  their  faces  while  he  cut  two  lines  down  their 
backs.  Then  he  slipped  a  piece  of  wood  through 
with  an  end  sticking  out  on  each  side  of  the  slit, 
leaving  a  piece  of  skin  stretched  out  about  as  wide 
as  one's  finger.  To  the  wooden  piece  he  fastened 
one  of  the  leather  strips  reaching  from  the  top  of 
the  pole,  and  away  the  Indian  started,  dancing  and 
singing  as  the  tom-toms  continued  to  beat.  The 
skin  stretched  out  while  the  blood  ran  down  the 
'Indian's  painted  sides.  On  the  ground  the  squaws 
threw  themselves,  beating  their  heads,  while  faster 
and  faster  the  men  went  singing  and  shouting. 
They  were  getting  their  courage  ready  to  slaughter 
the  white  men.  The  dance  would  last  two  or  three 
days  and  then  they  would  start  out. 

The  beating  kept  on,  more  and  more  coming  to 
join  the  dance.  The  squaws  had  woven  wreaths  of 
sage  and  filled  them  with  sprigs  of  green,  and  these 
they  placed  over  the  warriors'  heads.  In  their 
mouths  the  men  had  bone  whistles.  Over  the  low 
beating  of  the  tom-toms  and  the  boom  of  the  drums 
the  shrill  whistles  sounded.  The  Great  Spirit  was 
entering  the  warriors.  They  were  the  followers  of 
the  Messiah. 

In  and  out  among  them  went  Head  Wind.   Around 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

his  waist  were  three  buffalo  skulls,  showing  white  and 
shiny  in  the  light,  rattling  together.  He  saw  me  and 
came  toward  me,  leaping  and  dancing.  His  fingers 
closed  around  my  throat.  Whisky  was  stirring 
him  on  and  as  his  fingers  tightened  his  face  came  up 
close,  smeared  and  daubed  and  disgusting.  On  it 
was  a  leer,  because  his  time  for  revenge  had  come. 
His  face  began  to  get  bigger  and  bigger.  Seizing 
him  by  the  shoulder  the  young  Indian  shoved  him 
away.  He  went  reeling.  Then  Head  Wind  told 
him  how  I  had  insulted  him,  but  the  young  Indian 
shook  his  head.  He  must  not  kill  me.  At  last  they 
decided  to  take  me  to  the  medicine-man.  He  would 
know  what  to  do.  The  medicine-man  was  covered 
with  more  paint  and  feathers  than  any  of  them. 
He  would  leap  through  the  fire  to  please  the  spirits 
and  then  fall  in  a  faint  and  repeat  what  the  spirits 
told  him.  He  was  weaving  back  and  forth,  shaking 
a  leather  rattle  filled  with  stones.  When  he  saw 
me  his  face  broke  into  a  slow,  horrible  smile.  Picking 
up  his  rattle  he  began  to  leap  through  the  fire. 
Falling  over  in  a  faint  he  began  to  tell  them  what  to 
do  with  me.  Seizing  me  Head  Wind  led  me  to  his 
tent  and  bound  a  thong  around  my  ankles,  and  then 
pulling  my  hands  behind  my  back  he  tied  another 
around  my  wrists.  Shoving  me  over  he  went 
weaving  back  to  the  dance,  blood  running  down  his 
back. 

Why  had  I  ever  run  away  from  home?  If  I  had 
had  a  little  more  sense  I  could  be  having  all  the  cider 
and  doughnuts  I  wanted.  Now  nobody  would  ever 
hear  of  me  again;  no  one  would  know  what  had 

194 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

become  of  me — and  Addie  and  Hoot  Howden  would 
get  married  and  have  a  house  full  of  kids. 

I  pulled  at  the  thongs  that  bound  my  hands,  but 
they  would  not  loosen.  A  knot  an  Indian  ties  does 
not  slip.  Outside  sounded  the  monotonous  beat  of 
the  tom-toms  and  the  heavy  boom  of  the  buffalo- 
hide  drum.  As  the  dancers  grew  weaker  the  strips 
of  skin  stretched  out  farther  and  farther.  At  last 
they  would  pujl  out  and  the  bucks  would  drop 
exhausted.  To  one  side  they  would  be  dragged  by 
the  squaws  while  fresh  warriors  took  their  places. 
When  the  dance  was  over  the  camp  would  be  broken 
up,  the  women  sent  to  the  rear — and  then  the  Indians 
would  sweep  across  the  country.  The  Messiah 
uprising  would  be  on.  Over  the  prairies  the  fol- 
lowers of  Mike  Grass  would  ride,  killing  and  burning 
and  scalping. 

There  was  a  noise  outside  my  tent.  My  heart 
stood  still.  Head  Wind  might  be  slipping  back  to 
have  his  revenge.  I  struggled  at  the  thongs,  but 
it  was  no  use.  I  was  trapped.  Again  the  noise 
sounded  at  the  bottom  of  the  tent.  But  it  was  not 
Head  Wind.  It  was  Duff.  He  did  not  whine  or 
bark,  because  that  would  give  me  away.  He  began 
to  sniff  at  my  wrists.  He  licked  me  and  then  began 
to  smell  at  the  thongs.  He  knew  that  something 
was  the  matter.  Then  he  began  to  gnaw.  Turning 
his  head  over  sideways  so  that  he  could  get  at  the 
leather  he  chewed  harder  and  harder,  while  I  pushed 
my  wrists  together  to  make  the  thongs  loose.  Then 
I  pried  them  apart  and  at  last  they  spread.  I  took 
Duff  into  my  arms  and  petted  him.  He  was  the 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

best  dog  in  the  world.  But  I  could  not  hold  him 
long — every  minute  counted.  I  began  to  chew  at 
the  thongs  around  my  ankles.  Duff  finished  them 
up  for  me.  I  slipped  out.  The  tom-toms  were 
sounding  while  around  and  around  the  dancers  went. 
The  thongs  were  beginning  to  pull  out,  the  warriors 
dropping  on  the  ground. 

At  last  I  came  to  Head  Wind's  pony.  He  recog- 
nized me  with  a  whinny.  Quickly  I  clapped  my 
hands  over  his  nostrils.  Loosening  the  hobble  from 
his  foot  I  slipped  on  the  bridle  and  tried  to  get  up 
on  him  with  Duff  in  my  arms,  but  I  could  not  make 
it.  I  must  have  Duff  covered,  so  that  the  other 
dogs  would  not  give  the  alarm.  Again  I  tried,  but 
I  could  not  get  up.  But  I  would  not  go  and  leave 
Duff.  Drawing  one  of  the  thongs  from  my  pocket  I 
held  it  down  to  Duff.  Into  it  he  fastened  his  teeth 
and  I  drew  him  up. 

Just  as  I  was  digging  my  heels  in  the  pony's  side 
I  thought  of  Addie's  little  shirt  and  Elva's  veil. 
They  were  still  in  Head  Wind's  greasy  old  coat  in 
his  tepee.  What  should  I  do  about  them?  Every 
moment  counted ;  if  I  turned  back  with  all  the  people 
coming  and  going  and  dogs  on  every  side  I  would  be 
pretty  sure  to  be  discovered.  But  I  wouldn't  go 
off  and  leave  our  ladies'  things  in  Head  Wind's 
possession.  They  were  too  precious. 

Back  I  worked  my  way,  sometimes  stooping  and 
sometimes  crawling,  in  and  out  among  the  tepees 
till  I  came  to  Head  Wind's.  In  his  pockets  were 
twisted  bits  of  crow  feathers,  fish-hooks  with  lines 
wound  around  them,  a  pair  of  wolf  ears  so  that  he 

196 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

could  get  the  bounty,  and  then  Addie's  little  shirt 
with  one  seam  split  and  Elva's  veil. 

Then  crawling  back  with  the  tom-toms  beating 
and  the  buffalo-hide  drum  booming,  I  got  back  to 
the  pony  and  spoke  to  Duff.  Climbing  up  I  reached 
down  a  thong  to  him  and  he  fastened  his  teeth  into 
it  again. 

14 


CHAPTER  XVI 

I  come  riding  back  to  the  fort  with  my  chin  slightly  raised.  The  cannon 
in  the  watch-tower  booms  and  the  soldiers  ride  out.  People  want  to 
see  me  because  I  have  brought  back  the  news.  It  is  all  right  with 
me,  because  I  will  have  to  get  used  to  it,  anyway. 

THE  shouting  and  shrieking  and  moaning  of  the 
dance  grew  lower  as  I  rode  away,  and  at  last  I 
could  hear  only  the  low  dull  vibrations  of  the  tom- 
toms. Duff  sat  crouched  in  my  arms,  once  in  a 
while  licking  my  hands.  Sometimes  I  would  squeeze 
him,  because  he  was  the  best  dog  in  the  world.  Then 
I  went  down  behind  another  slope  and  the  sound 
was  gone. 

I  must  ride  to  the  fort  and  notify  Captain  Hall 
before  the  Indians  could  sweep  over  the  country. 
It  made  me  shudder  to  think  what  would  happen. 
Wearing  their  ghost  shirts  they  would  come  down 
upon  the  settlers,  burning  and  killing,  thinking  that 
they  were  doing  the  bidding  of  the  Messiah.  And 
the  Messiah  was  Mike  Grass,  the  half-breed!  The 
country  had  thought  that  the  last  uprising  was 
over  and  that  with  the  Indians  on  their  reservations 
trying  to  farm  all  danger  was  past;  but  now  they 
would  fall  upon  the  people  and  kill  them  as  they 
never  had  before.  It  was  now  a  religious  war. 

Back  out  of  the  foothills  I  rode.  I  must  get  back 

198 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

to  the  table-lands.  There  I  would  find  Captain 
Hall  and  the  soldiers.  Sleepier  and  sleepier  I  grew, 
but  I  must  keep  on  moving.  Locking  my  arms 
around  the  pony's  neck  I  bent  my  head  forward. 
When  I  awoke  he  had  turned  back  on  the  trail  and  I 
had  lost  time.  I  must  keep  awake. 

The  sun  grew  higher  and  higher  and  hotter, 
burning  down  till  it  seemed  like  passing  in  front  of 
an  engine  when  the  fireman  has  the  door  open.  But 
still  I  rode  on  over  the  black,  baking  prairies. 
Green  slips  of  grass  were  beginning  to  peek  through, 
like  ground-squirrels  sticking  up  the  tips  of  their 
noses  to  see  if  you  have  gone  on  by.  Only  a  few 
days  ago  I  had  been  so  content  and  happy,  and  now 
I  was  riding  to  give  word  of  the  uprising.  How 
quickly  things  can  change!  I  was  getting  so  I 
knew  a  good  deal  about  life. 

By  the  slope  of  the  land  and  by  the  drifting  away 
of  the  hills  from  the  north  I  could  tell  that  I  was 
going  in  the  right  direction,  but  where  I  did  not 
know.  At  last  a  hut  stood  out— at  first  just  a 
speck — and  then  as  I  came  nearer  it  began  to  seem 
familiar.  It  was  Lone  Swanson's.  The  window  was 
dirty,  with  an  old  piece  of  muslin  pasted  over  a 
cracked  pane.  The  rain  had  turned  the  muslin 
striped  and  yellow,  but  I  didn't  care.  I  was  glad 
enough  to  see  anybody.  I  got  off  on  the  bare  patch 
where  he  threw  the  dish-water.  It  wasn't  very  big, 
because  he  didn't  waste  much  time  washing  dishes. 

I  guess  he  would  be  surprised  to  see  me  come 
walking  in.  Probably  he  hadn't  seen  anybody,  ex- 
cept the  grub  man,  since  Slim  and  I  had  been 

199 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

around.  He  would  gape  and  rub  his  eyes  and  pull 
his  long  mustache  and  say,  "Boy,  what  under  the 
sun  and  a  cabbage  leaf  are  you  doing  here?" 

I  would  paint  it  up  a  bit  and  get  all  I  could  out  of 
it.  I  would  make  the  Sun  Dance  quite  a  bit  bigger 
and  have  them  tie  me  to  a  stake  and  pile  fagots 
around  me  and  get  a  firebrand.  I  would  put  in  the 
fancy  touches  where  they  belonged,  because  I  had 
done  something.  I  guess  he  would  think  I  was 
somebody. 

"Hello!  "I  called. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"Got  anything  to  eat  ? "  I  asked,  in  a  way  to  make 
it  sound  funny.  "You  don't  happen  to  have  a 
piece  of  wedding-cake  around,  do  you?" 

That  made  it  sound  funnier  still  because  probably 
Lone  had  never  been  to  a  wedding  in  his  life.  He 
had  always  lived  out  on  the  plains  and  had  never 
been  where  they  have  a  gay  life. 

Pulling  the  buckskin  latch,  I  pushed  the  door.  It 
slid  in  its  scraped  groove. 

There  was  a  rustle  and  a  shrill  voice.  "Shut  the 
door."  It  was  Billy  Hell.  He  laughed  a  shrill, 
rattling  laugh.  "He  slit  my  tongue,  damn  his 
soul." 

"Hello,  Lone." 

"Damn  his  soul." 

The  shrill  voice  echoed  in  my  ears  and  on  his 
cottonwood  perch  he  wiped  his  bill.  The  room  was 
silent.  A  bottle-fly  buzzed  against  the  window,  then 
other  flies  began  to  hum  with  the  angry  sound  of 
flies  who  don't  want  to  be  disturbed. 

200 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

In  the  dimness  of  the  room  I  could  see  Lone, 
pitched  forward  on  the  table,  one  hand  hanging 
over.  His  violin  had  slid  to  the  floor. 

"Hello,  Lone,"  I  said.  "Wake  up;  you  got 
company." 

"He  split  my  tongue,  damn  his  soul."  With  a 
rustle  of  feathers  Billy  Hell  leaped  over  on  his 
cottonwood  perch. 

Putting  my  hand  on  Lone's  shoulder  I  started  to 
shake  him,  but  he  was  stiff  and  rigid.  More  flies 
went  buzzing  away,  thumping  against  the  window. 
And  then,  as  my  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
light,  I  saw  what  was  the  matter  and  it  made  me 
weak  in  the  knees.  He  had  been  scalped.  It  was 
the  first  revenge  for  Walking  Thunder. 

Lone  had  been  sitting  playing  his  fiddle  when 
there  had  been  a  rap  at  the  door.  He  had  called  out 
to  them  to  come  in,  because  he  liked  company. 
They  had  not  harmed  Billy  Hell,  because  a  crow  is 
sacred  to  Indians.  He  was  now  sitting  with  his 
feathers  ruffled  up,  one  leg  folded  under  him,  turning 
his  big  shining  eyes  down  on  me.  Then  the  Indians 
had  ridden  away. 

I  closed  the  door  quickly.  Inside  the  shrill  voice 
still  sounded.  "He  split  my  tongue,  damn  his 
soul." 

Climbing  on  the  pony  I  hurried  away.  I  had  come 
expecting  to  stretch  things  and  what  I  had  walked 
into!  Here  all  I  was  thinking  about  was  stretching 
things  so  that  he  would  think  that  I  had  done 
something  wonderful  and  all  the  time  he  was  sitting 
there  pitched  forward  on  the  table,  one  hand  hanging 

201 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

over  and  the  flies  buzzing  around.  That's  all  I 
amounted  to — just  going  around  trying  to  paint 
things  up  and  make  an  impression  on  some  one.  It 
made  me  feel  pretty  cheap. 

Across  the  prairies  I  rode.  I  must  get  word  to 
Captain  Hall.  The  Indians  with  their  ghost  shirts 
would  soon  leave  their  reservations  and  sweep  across 
the  country,  and  in  home  after  home  people  would 
be  sitting  just  as  Lone  was,  with  the  flies  bumping 
against  the  window.  When  I  got  to  the  fort  I 
wouldn't  paint  things  up.  I  would  just  tell  what 
had  happened.  No  more  of  that  for  me. 

Hotter  grew  the  sun,  because  no  sun  can  be  hotter 
than  ours.  The  plains  baked  and  sizzled.  Duff 
trotted  along  beside  me,  his  tongue  hanging  out,  his 
sides  going  in  and  out.  When  the  Hon.  Ira  T. 
Butterfield  had  told  about  how  the  iron  in  these  hills 
would  build  a  railroad  to  the  moon  and  how  the 
marble  would  rebuild  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem  he 
hadn't  mentioned  anything  about  how  hot  these 
hills  got  in  summer  and  how  cold  in  winter.  He  had 
left  that  out  because  he  wanted  to  go  back  to 
Congress. 

I  saw  something.  ...  It  was  a  man  walking.  He 
walked  a  bit,  then  got  down  out  of  sight.  I  started 
to  turn  back,  because  I  knew  how  Indians  acted,  but 
then  the  man  got  up  and  started  on  again.  Then  I 
saw  that  he  was  staggering.  Suddenly  Duff  began 
to  whine  and  I  knew  it  was  Slim.  Digging  my  heels 
in  I  dashed  forward,  Duff  galloping  at  my  side. 
Rising  and  falling,  sometimes  creeping  along  on  his 
hands  and  knees,  Slim  kept  his  way.  As  I  came 

202 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

closer  I  saw  that  his  hands  were  tied  behind  him  and 
around  his  ankles  thongs,  so  that  he  could  take  only 
short,  hobbling  steps. 

I  came  up  on  a  gallop,  waving  my  hands,  but  he 
could  not  see.  Staggering  he  fell  to  the  ground  and 
leaning  on  his  elbow  looked  up  at  me,  his  face  worn 
and  haggard  and  gaunt.  Around  his  neck  was  a 
buckskin  collar,  laced  and  fastened  in  the  back. 
The  collar  had  been  wet  and  now  with  the  sun 
beating  down  was  choking  the  life  out  of  him.  His 
eyes  were  beginning  to  glaze  and  over  the  collar 
brown  folds  of  his  skin  hung.  Weakly  he  pointed 
at  his  throat.  He  couldn't  speak. 

I  slit  the  lacings.  The  collar  spread  open  and  the 
blood  began  to  return  to  the  white  strip.  Slim  lay 
on  the  ground  looking  up  at  me,  too  weak  to  move, 
while  Duff  leaped  and  barked.  He  had  forgotten 
all  about  the  prickly  pears  in  his  feet. 

"They  mighty  near  got  me  that  time,"  said  Slim 
when  he  could  speak  again.  ' ' I  guess  I've  just  about 
lost  all  taste  for  leather  goods." 

That  morning  at  the  cabin  when  Slim  had  left  me 
he  hadn't  suspected  anything  wrong.  When  he  had 
returned  he  had  seen  the  smoke  coming  out  of  the 
chimney  and  had  come  walking  in,  singing.  Before 
he  knew  it  two  Indians  leaped  at  him.  He  was 
trapped.  They  had  kept  him  several  days,  and  were 
marching  him  back  into  the  foothills  when  they  were 
met  by  Mike  Grass.  It  was  his  opportunity.  He 
did  not  like  Slim  because  he  had  interfered  with  the 
ghost  dance  at  Hurrah.  Now  was  his  chance  for 
revenge.  Rolling  his  eagle  feather  and  going  into 

203 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

a  trance  he  had  communed  with  the  Great  Spirit. 
The  Great  Spirit  had  told  him  that  Slim  should 
serve  as  a  lesson  and  as  a  warning  to  other  whites 
who  were  driving  back  the  Indian  and  keeping  away 
the  buffalo.  Slim's  hands  were  tied  behind  him,  a 
thong  put  around  his  legs  so  he  could  not  walk  fast, 
and  then  a  buckskin  strap  soaked  in  water  was 
sewed  around  his  neck.  Then  he  was  set  free  upon 
the  prairies.  The  sun  coming  high  dried  the  leather 
and  slowly  it  began  to  tighten.  Tighter  and  tighter 
it  grew  with  a  grip  of  steel,  welding  itself  around  his 
throat,  till  his  tongue  hung  out  and  his  eyes  became 
glazed.  It  was  just  such  a  revenge  as  Mike  Grass 
liked.  Then,  as  Slim  was  staggering  on  toward  the 
white  settlements,  I  had  come  upon  him. 

"It  left  me  some  time  for  thinking,"  said  Slim, 
"and  all"  I  want  to  do  is  just  to  meet  Mike  Grass 
again.  I  got  it  all  studied  up." 

I  helped  Slim  on  the  pony,  while  we  hurried  on. 
At  his  side  I  walked,  steadying  him.  Word  must 
be  carried  to  Captain  Hall.  In  a  short  time  homes 
all  over  the  state  would  be  going  up  in  flames. 

Gradually  Slim  grew  stronger,  with  a  craving  for 
water.  For  a  few  hours  that  night  we  slept  in  a 
scrub-oak  patch  with  a  small  fire  going  in  the  bed 
of  the  creek.  The  next  day  as  Slim's  strength  re- 
turned he  left  me,  starting  in  the  direction  of  the 
C  Q,  Duff  trotting  at  his  side,  reaching  up  once  in  a 
while  to  lick  his  hands,  while  I  pressed  on  toward 
the  fort. 

I  guess  they  would  be  surprised  to  see  a  boy  come 
riding  in  bareback  on  an  Indian  pony.  How  things 

204 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

had  changed  since  I  had  been  there  before!  Then 
I  wasn't  anything — now  I  would  be  about  the  most 
important  person  there.  I  was  getting  ahead  all 
right. 

The  next  day  I  got  to  the  fort.  It  was  all  scat- 
tered with  a  line  of  company  houses  around  the  out- 
side and  a  drill-ground  in  the  center.  The  guard 
challenged  me  and  the  soldiers  came  running  out, 
some  of  them  still  holding  their  cards  in  their  hands. 

"I  want  to  see  the  captain,"  I  said. 

The  captain  looked  at  me  kind  of  smiling,  be- 
cause he  didn't  think  that  a  boy  could  tell  him  any- 
thing that  would  interest  him.  The  captain  had  a 
room  by  himself,  except  for  a  cot  in  the  corner  for  his 
orderly.  In  the  middle  was  a  round  stove  that  was 
getting  pretty  rusty,  but  in  the  winter  it  would  be 
busy  enough.  One  hinge  was  broken  off  where 
some  officer  had  got  in  a  hurry  and  kicked  it,  so 
now  it  was  fixed  up  with  baling  wire.  His  sword 
was  dangling  on  a  peg,  the  belt  all  pulled  up  lop- 
sided. I  would  take  better  care  of  it  than  that. 
When  I  didn't  have  it  on  I  would  have  it  laid  away 
in  flannel.  In  a  frame  he  had  a  picture  of  General 
Bell,  because  General  Bell  was  the  highest  up  of  all, 
and  on  the  wall  a  row  of  pipes  in  a  rack.  Some  day 
I  would  have  a  row  of  pipes,  too — only  I  wouldn't 
have  a  girl's  head  carved  on  any  of  them.  I  was 
through  with  them.  Women  never  brought  any- 
thing but  sorrow  into  the  world,  anyway.  I  would 
have  been  a  lot  better  off  if  I  had  never  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  women  or  womenkind. 

"Well,  sonny,  what's  on  your  mind?" 
205 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

He  called  me  "sonny."  I  guess  he  didn't  know 
that  I  expected  to  be  President  some  day.  He  was 
sitting  there  smiling  and  knocking  his  pipe  out  on  a 
corner  of  the  table.  Pretty  soon  his  face  would 
change. 

"Captain,  the  Indians  are  on  the  war-path!" 

His  pipe  paused  in  the  air.  "Why,  what  makes 
you  think  so?" 

Then  I  told  him  all,  but  not  painting  it  up  very 
much — just  putting  in  a  few  fancy  touches  here 
and  there.  He  let  me  finish,  the  way  a  good  listener 
does,  and  then  asked  a  couple  of  short  questions. 
Then  he  got  out  his  maps  with  their  lines  and  ele- 
vations and  I  showed  him  where  in  the  foothills 
the  Indians  were  gathered. 

His  face  was  serious  enough  now.  He  paced  the 
floor  and  then  sitting  down  at  his  desk  wrote  a  tele- 
gram to  General  Bell.  The  telegram  was  given  to 
the  pony  express  messenger,  who  flew  out  the  gate 
in  a  cloud  of  dust.  The  word  was  off  to  let  the 
world  know  of  the  uprising.  At  the  next  post  it 
would  be  relayed  on  until  the  telegraph  station  was 
reached.  General  Bell  would  communicate  it  to 
the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs,  and  he  would 
communicate  it  to  the  Department  of  the  Interior, 
and  the  Department  of  the  Interior  would  communi- 
cate it  to  the  War  Department.  The  President 
would  come  out  with  a  message  and  it  would  be  in 
all  the  newspapers  and  on  every  lip.  Speeches 
would  be  made  about  it  in  Congress  and  soon  the 
whole  United  States  would  be  excited  over  it.  I 
liked  to  lean  back  and  think  about  it.  I  was  getting 

206 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

to  be  somebody  all  right.  I  guess  it  wouldn't  be 
long  till  I  was  President.  When  I  wanted  a  sword 
all  I  would  have  to  do  would  be  just  to  tell  them  to 
bring  me  in  a  couple. 

The  captain  gave  the  word  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  cannon  on  the  watch-tower  boomed.  In  a  mo- 
ment a  bugler  came  running  out  with  his  bugle  and 
put  it  in  the  big  megaphone  pivoted  on  a  post  and 
the  call  echoed  up  and  down  the  buildings.  From 
the  barracks  the  men  came  rushing,  buttoning  their 
clothes  and  clicking  the  bolts  of  their  rifles.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  drill-ground  was  alive  with  hurrying 
men,  and  out  of  the  stables  the  horses  were  coming, 
striking  the  ground  with  their  feet  and  whinnying 
back  and  forth  to  each  other.  Two  men  were 
rolling  out  the  Hotchkiss  gun,  pulling  off  its  canvas 
cover,  while  up  and  down  the  buildings  the  calls  of 
the  officers  echoed.  A  few  minutes  before  there  had 
been  only  men  in  their  sock  feet  running  their 
fingers  through  their  hair  and  playing  cards;  now 
the  post  was  alive  with  men  pouring  in  from  every 
side.  The  first  scouting  expedition  was  starting 
out.  Soon  troops  would  be  moving  in  from  as  far 
away  as  California  and  New  Mexico.  Other  troops 
would  arrive  and  we  would  move  out  against  the 
Indians. 

With  the  boom  of  the  cannon,  messengers  started 
out  to  warn  the  people.  Men  would  be  stopped  in 
the  field;  horses  unhitched  and  plows  left  standing 
in  the  furrows.  Meals  would  be  left  cooking  on  the 
stoves  and  the  women  and  children  rushed  to  the 
fort,  because  all  knew  what  an  uprising  meant. 

207 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Where  all  had  been  quiet  and  monotony  before  I 
arrived  was  now  excitement.  A  bugle  echoed  and  a 
troop  of  horses  dashed  into  line  under  command  of 
a  lieutenant.  Quickly  they  numbered  off,  then  out 
the  gate  they  dashed.  The  first  reconnoitering 
expedition  had  started. 

Down  the  street  came  Lonesome  Charlie,  walking 
along  as  coolly  as  if  he  was  going  down  to  the  store 
to  buy  a  plug  of  tobacco.  He  had  his  gun  in  the 
hollow  of  his  arm.  Over  it  was  stretched  the  snake 
hide,  hard  and  glistening.  Lonesome  Charlie  had 
been  a  hunter  for  the  gold  wagons  and  caravans 
going  westward.  He  would  disappear  in  the  timber, 
taking  long  swinging  steps,  and  come  back  with  a 
deer  swung  across  his  shoulders.  When  nobody  else 
could  find  anything  he  would  go  swinging  off, 
smoking  his  corncob  pipe,  and  that  evening  when 
the  wagons  pulled  up  for  the  night  he  would  be 
waiting  with  an  antelope  swinging  by  its  ham- 
strings. But  now  he  was  a  scout  to  keep  the  govern- 
ment informed  about  the  Indians.  Wherever  he 
went  he  always  carried  his  snake-hide  gun.  A 
snake-hide  gun  is  all  right,  but  I  would  rather  have 
a  sword,  because  a  snake-hide  gun  makes  the  ladies' 
flesh  creep.  They  admire  a  sword  more. 

Should  I  go  up  to  him  or  not?  He  might  send 
word  back  to  Temptation  and  then  they  would  come 
after  me.  I  thought  a  moment  and  then  walked  up 
to  him.  He  was  surprised. 

"Well,  I'll  be  double  horn -busted  and  crossed 
with  a  jack-rabbit.  Put  it  there.  So  you're  the 
one  they  been  talkin'  about.  Well,  I'll  swan!" 

208 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

That  was  all  he  could  say,  because  he  wasn't 
expecting  it  to  be  me.  I  let  him  look  at  me  for  a 
while. 

"Yes,  it's  me.  I  got  away  from  three  or  four 
thousand  of  them  and  just  came  on  in  to  notify 
Captain  Hall."  I  would  stretch  the  number  a  bit, 
because  there  were  a  good  many  people  standing 
around.  "Got  any  chewing?" 

"Well,  you  sure  started  something.'* 

"It  wasn't  anything,"  I  said,  slipping  the  chew 
into  my  pocket  as  if  I  wasn't  noticing  what  I  was 
doing,  because  I  hadn't  got  so  I  could  chew  yet.  "I 
just  gave  'em  the  dodge,  then  came  on  in." 

As  Lonesome  Charlie  and  I  walked  on  down  the 
street  we  met  Weisman,  the  Indian  agent,  his  heavy, 
dark  face  beginning  to  get  pale.  "I  knew  it  all  the 
time,"  he  said.  "I  knew  it  when  they  were  having 
their  Ghost  Dance,  but  nobody  would  pay  any 
attention  to  me." 

Lonesome  Charlie  looked  at  him  awhile,  his  chin 
moving  up  and  down  with  his  fresh  cud.  "Well, 
you  ought  to  know — seein'  as  you've  done  more 
to  bring  it  on  than  anything  else.  You  know 
about  as  much  about  Indians  as  a  hog  does  about 
fancy-work.  If  the  government  had  left  you  in 
Washington  this  camp  would  have  been  a  good  deal 
quieter." 

As  we  walked  on  toward  the  Best  Place  Saloon  I 
decided  this  was  a  good  chance  to  find  out  some- 
thing about  Addie.  I  would  find  out  from  Lone- 
some Charlie  without  giving  myself  away,  because  I 
was  good  at  things  that  way.  I  would  find  out,  be- 

209 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

cause  no  woman  could  throw  dish-water  on  me  and 
not  live  to  regret  it.  But  no  difference  how  badly 
her  heart  was  broken  I  would  not  return. 

"By  the  way,  Lonesome,"  I  said  when  I  got 
a  chance,  "how  is  everybody  back  in  Tempta- 
tion?" Lonesome  Charlie  looked  at  me  awhile, 
then  bit  off  another  chew.  "Oh,  able  to  com- 
plain." 

Lonesome  Charlie  was  not  given  to  talking.  When 
he  got  through  he  quit. 

"That's  good.     How  about  the  women-folks?" 

"Complainin'  more  than  the  men." 

"Naturally,"  I  says.  "How  are  the  young  folks 
around  that  burg,  anyway?" 

"Oh,  them,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie,  indignantly. 
"Giddy  as  usual.  Young  people  ain't  much  good 
any  more.  But  the  real  trouble  is  with  the  Indians. 
Things  is  getting  pretty  serious  with  them.  We 
been  crowding  them  back  for  years,  making  their 
reservations  smaller  and  smaller,  and  now  they're 
just  about  pushed  off  the  log.  They  been  promised 
a  lot  of  things  we  never  had  any  intention  of  giving 
them.  And  it  don't  do  no  good  to  promise  an 
Indian  something  and  then  not  live  up  to  it.  They 
never  forget.  There  ain't  any  huntin'  any  more  and 
they  'ain't  learned  to  farm  yet.  Crops  is  a  failure 
and  blackleg  has  broke  out  among  their  cattle. 
Smallpox  has  been  getting  among  them  and  naturally 
that  would  sort  of  dampen  their  enthusiasm  for  the 
whites.  Now,  just  as  things  is  getting  to  the  worst, 
a  half-blood  comes  along  and  says  he  is  the  Messiah 
and  is  going  to  deliver  them.  They're  ready  to 

210 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

believe  anything  he  says,  as  they  'ain't  got  much  to 
lose.  Then  the  government  sends  out  an  agent  like 
Weisman  because  he  has  helped  elect  somebody  in 
the  Fourth  Ward.  He  don't  know  an  Indian  from 
a  Greaser,  but  he  comes  out  here  to  be  their  guide 
and  master.  When  they  start  Ghost  Dancing  he 
gets  white  around  the  gills.  Instead  of  treating 
them  like  children  and  handling  them  with  the 
Indian  Police  he  sends  for  more  troops,  and  that  don't 
tend  to  cheer  them  up  none.  We  had  a  good  agent 
here  who  knew  Indians  backward  and  forward,  but 
them  politicians  in  Washington  got  together  and 
said:  'Here's  a  good  man  that  has  been  faithful  in 
getting  the  colored  vote.  He  must  have  his  chance.' 
Then  we  got  him." 

I  must  get  him  back  to  Addie. 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  I  said,  as  if  I  had  been  doing 
a  lot  of  thinking  on  the  subject,  as  I  have  a  way  of 
saying  things  slow  and  meditative  that  sounds 
thoughtful.  "Every  word  you  say  is  true,  but, 
while  I  think  of  it,  have  you  seen  Miss  Mingo 
lately?" 

It  made  me  thrill  to  speak  her  name.  Slipping 
my  hands  in  my  pocket  I  put  it  on  her  shirt.  To 
think  that  her  body  had  been  in  it  and  that  it  had 
nestled  against  her  little  white  ribs!  It  made  me 
warm  all  over.  I  wondered  if  Lonesome  Charlie 
would  notice  me  stutter  and  stammer  when  I  tried 
to  pronounce  her  sweet  name,  but  he  didn't  because 
it  had  been  a  long  time  since  he  had  loved  a  true 
woman. 

"Oh  yes — that  stub-nosed  second  girl  of  Ed 
211 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Mrngo's.  She's  been  hanging  around  there  all 
summer  chewing  gum  and  yelling  on  the  streets. 
If  her  father  would  spend  less  time  'lectioneering 
and  more  time  beating  sense  into  the  heads  of  his 
kids  he  would  be  better  off." 

Oh,  what  a  shock  it  was  to  hear  him  talking  about 
Addie  that  way !  She  had  been  a  true,  noble  lady . . . 
before  she  had  met  Hoot  Howden  .  .  .  and  now 
Lonesome  was  calling  her  "that  stub-nosed  second 
girl  of  Ed  Mingo's."  It  made  my  blood  run  cold. 
He  must  not  go  around  blurting  out  her  name  that 
way  so  everybody  could  hear.  It  was  awful.  Why 
couldn't  he  see  that  she  was  different  from  other 
girls?  I  was  glad  that  I  wasn't  going  to  be  a  scout 
and  become  bitter  on  the  world.  Being  President 
wouldn't  make  a  person  bitter.  He  would  be  happy 
and  carefree,  and  whenever  he  wanted  to  put  on  a 
sword  all  he  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  call  one 
of  the  hired  men. 

How  I  had  changed  since  I  had  first  met  Lone- 
some Charlie!  Then  I  had  thought  he  was  wonder- 
ful. I  was  glad  that  I  had  given  up  scouting  to  be 
President — a  President  wouldn't  speak  of  dear  little 
Addie  that  way. 

"Any  more  news  from  Pokeville?"  I  asked,  be- 
cause that  would  show  that  I  had  grown. 

Lonesome  Charlie  squinted  up  his  eye  and  thought 
for  a  while.  "They  got  old  Hankey  for  bootlegging. 
He  had  been  hiding  it  in  the  basement  of  the  school- 
house  and  selling  it  to  the  Indians.  Then  the 
government  agents  got  him.  He's  on  the  way  to 
prison  now." 

212 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

That  was  news.  That  was  what  Hankey  had 
been  doing  at  night  when  our  lodge  had  been  fol- 
lowing him.  He  had  been  drinking  a  good  deal  of 
it  himself.  I'd  like  to  have  been  there  when  they 
got  him,  but  you  can't  have  everything. 

15 


CHAPTER  XVII 

/  walk  down  the  street  and  meet  the  Professor,  but  I  do  not  tell  him  what 
I  think  of  him,  because  it  takes  all  kinds  of  people  to  make  up  a  world. 
Everybody  could  not  be  like  me.  Then  Slim  puts  his  hand  up  to 
his  forehead  and  staggers,  because  he  did  not  know  how  small  the 
world  was. 

HTHE  settlers  began  coming  in  the  next  day,  the 
•*•  man  walking  along  beside  the  wagon  cracking 
his  whip  and  the  wife  sitting  on  a  mattress  holding 
a  couple  of  kids.  It  was  pretty  hard  on  them,  be- 
cause they  had  come  out  here  expecting  to  get  rich, 
and  now  they  had  to  throw  their  things  into  a  grain 
wagon  and  get  out.  They  would  get  married  in 
Illinois,  climb  into  a  covered  wagon  with  people 
throwing  rice  at  them,  and  start  West  to  get  rich. 
But  it  wouldn't  be  long  till  the  man  would  sit  around 
all  evening  looking  at  a  crack  in  the  stove,  and  the 
wife  once  in  a  while  wiping  her  eyes.  It  was  pretty 
hard  to  see  them  come  so  bright  and  hopeful  and 
then  watch  them  grow  silent  and  bitter.  If  it  wasn't 
the  grasshoppers  it  was  the  chinchbug,  and  if  it 
wasn't  the  chinchbug  it  was  wheat-rust,  and  if  it 
wasn't  wheat-rust  it  was  distemper  among  the 
horses  or  cholera  among  the  hogs — always  something. 
It  wasn't  a  poor  man's  paradise  the  way  they  had 
thought.  They  would  arrive  singing  hymns,  but 

214 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

pretty  soon  spiders  would  build  webs  across  their 
windows  and  their  pole  stables  would  fall  in.  Then 
another  quarter-section  would  go  back  to  the 
government. 

At  the  tables  where  the  soldiers  had  been  playing 
cards  in  their  undershirts  the  women  now  warmed 
the  babies'  milk.  I  liked  to  walk  among  the  people 
and  let  them  look  at  me.  Sometimes  I  would  stand 
looking  off  across  the  prairies,  as  if  I  was  doing  some 
hard  thinking,  and  then  I  would  whistle  and  give 
an  imitation  war-whoop  and  wear  my  shirt  on  the 
outside  of  my  pants  and  call  it  my  ghost  shirt,  so 
that  they  wouldn't  get  me  mixed  up  with  any  of  the 
other  boys.  When  the  men  would  ask  me  how  many 
Indians  I  thought  there  were  and  I  would  tell  them 
they  would  look  pretty  pale,  but  I  would  whistle  as 
if  a  thousand  more  or  less  didn't  make  any  difference 
to  an  old  Indian-fighter  like  me.  Then  I  would 
play  with  their  babies  and  put  my  hand  on  their 
heads  so  that  they  could  tell  when  I  was  President 
how  I  had  treated  them  as  an  equal. 

I  would  go  down  when  the  stage  came  in,  because 
none  of  those  people  had  seen  me  yet. 

A  short,  thin  man  with  bags  slung  over  his  shoulders 
and  spectacles  on  the  end  of  his  nose  got  out  and 
looked  around  in  a  bewildered  way.  The  people  all 
went  hurrying  to  their  kinsfolk  or  down  to  the  Best 
Place  Saloon — all  except  the  Professor,  who  wiped 
his  glasses  and  looked  around. 

"Excuse  me,"  he  said,  tapping  a  magnifying- 
glass  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  "but  am  I  to  under- 
stand that  this  is  as  far  as  the  stage  conveys  one?" 

215 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"You  mean,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie,  "is  this  as 
far  as  she  runs?" 

The  Professor  pulled  down  his  glasses  and  set  them 
on  the  end  of  his  nose.  ' '  I  believe  that  our  meanings 
are  identical." 

"I'm  kind  of  calc'latin'  you'll  find  this  far  enough. 
If  you  went  any  farther,  pardner,  you'd  get  your 
hair  lifted." 

"That  would  be  quite  impossible,  my  good  friend. 
I  am  quite  destitute  of  the  natural  covering." 

The  faro  man  began  to  swear  and  told  the  other 
men  how  they  would  have  to  keep  their  eyes  on  the 
Professor  or  he  would  walk  right  into  the  Indians. 

"When,  may  I  ask,  will  this  disturbance  be  over?" 

"Hell,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie,  shifting  his  gun 
to  his  other  arm,  "it's  just  beginning." 

"How  distressing!  I  have  most  urgent  business 
at  one  of  the  ranches — at — let  me  see — I  have  the 
name  somewhere  about  me.  It  is  quite  extraor- 
dinary how  inconsequential  things  cause  so  much 
inconvenience.  I  am  quite  sure  I  put  it  in  this 
pocket."  He  went  on  fumbling  through  his  pockets 
and  found  it  on  the  other  side.  "Ah,  here  it  is. 
The  name  of  the  place  is  the  *C  Q.'  The  information 
is  by  telegraph  and  unfortunately  is  quite  brief. 
Does  any  one  here  happen  to  know  where  the 
CQis?" 

When  I  told  him  his  eyes  batted. 

"What  extraordinary  distances  you  have  out 
here!  When  does  the  next  conveyance  start?" 

"Hell,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie,  because  he  was 
not  cultured  and  would  never  be  President,  "there 

216 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

ain't  any  conveyances.  The  people  are  all  comin' 
this  way,  and  coming  mighty  damned  fast." 

"I  understand,  but  there  are  some  bones  out 
there  that  I  wish  to  see." 

Lonesome  Charlie's  eyes  began  to  get  big,  because 
he  could  not  think  of  anybody  wanting  to  see  bones. 
"If  you're  buying  bones  I  can  tip  you  off  to  where 
you  can  get  all  you  want  without  payin'  anything 
for  them.  Over  on  Snake  River  there  is  a  buffalo 
wallow — " 

"Ah,  my  good  man,  I  care  nothing  for  the  bones  of 
the  bison,  but  those  at  the  C  Q  ranch,  I  have  good 
reason  to  believe,  are  very  rare  indeed.  They  are  the 
only  bones  I  wish  to  see." 

It  made  me  laugh  to  see  Lonesome  Charlie  go  off 
shaking  his  head.  He  didn't  have  much  use  for 
anybody  who  didn't  have  anything  to  do  but  hunt 
bones.  But  I  knew  what  the  Professor  wanted — 
he  had  come  from  the  museum  in  answer  to  Mr. 
Hazleton's  telegram. 

When  I  told  him  who  I  was  he  wanted  to  get  the 
bones  more  than  ever.  "Is  there  not  some  place  in 
the  village  a  vehicle  we  can  use — a  fast-driving 
vehicle?"  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  him  from 
starting,  but  at  last  I  got  his  mind  off  the  bones. 
He  began  to  look  around  uneasily. 

"How  neglectful!  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  myself. 
I  have  assumed  charge  of — I  dare  say — a  charming 
young  lady  whom  I  met  on  the  train  and  later  on 
the  stage — a  Miss  Needles.  She  is  to  open  a  music 
studio  here  and  is  quite  alone  in  the  world.  I 
promised  that  I  would  be  her  guard  and  knight." 

217 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

At  the  idea  of  him  being  a  knight  he  laughed  and 
nibbed  his  hands.  "She  is  quite  a  charming  young 
lady.  Already  she  had  become  interested  in  paleon- 
tology. She  was  so  good  as  to  listen  to  my  paper 
on  'Protective  Coloring  Among  Jurassic  Bronto- 
sauria.'  It  is  not  often — in  fact  I  may  say  it  is  rare 
— that  one  finds  a  young  lady  of  such  pleasant 
features  ready  to  listen  to  dissertations  on  topics 
that  should  concern  so  vitally  young  people  of 
to-day  as  Miss  Needles  is." 

I  could  see  that  the  Professor  was  stuck  on  her. 
But  let  him.  He  had  always  been  reading  books  and 
working  with  bones  till  he  didn't  know  much  about 
women.  He  would  have  to  learn  his  own  lesson. 

As  the  wagons  came  in  during  the  days  with  the 
men  cracking  their  whips  and  the  women  trying  to 
hold  the  babies'  bottles  steady,  Professor  Nardin 
paid  no  attention.  He  would  go  right  on  talking 
with  Miss  Needles  about  the  Jurassic  period.  Once 
in  a  while,  as  he  walked  about,  he  would  stoop  to 
pick  up  something  and  I  would  rush  over,  because 
some  time  I  bet  you  I  discover  a  gold-mine,  but  it 
wouldn't  be  anything  but  a  jagged  rock.  Then  he 
would  take  out  his  magnifying-glass  and  begin  to 
lecture  with  his  finger.  Miss  Needles  would  have 
been  pretty  good-looking,  only  I  didn't  have  any 
use  for  them. 

The  parade-ground  began  to  fill  up  with  wagons, 
with  the  men  sitting  on  the  tongues  and  the  horses 
eating  out  of  the  feed-boxes,  while  runners  brought 
in  word  from  the  scouting  expeditions.  Additional 
reinforcements,  the  pony  express  riders  brought 

218 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

back  word,  were  hurrying  to  Captain  Hall.  Soon 
all  would  be  ready  to  move  against  the  Indians. 
The  Indians  with  their  ghost  shirts  and  with  Plenty 
Horses  to  lead  them,  inspired  by  the  words  of  their 
Messiah,  believed  that  they  would  sweep  all  before 
them.  Then  the  whites  would  be  driven  from  the 
country  and  the  buffalo  restored. 

"There's  somebody  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
drill-ground  who  wants  to  see  you,"  said  Lonesome 
Charlie,  and  when  I  got  there  it  was  Slim.  He  had 
come  in  with  Mrs.  Harbaugh,  Miss  Hazleton,  and 
Bun  Wah.  The  rest  of  the  men  had  gone  out  as 
scouts  or  were  guarding  the  stock,  but  because  Slim 
wasn't  strong  yet  he  had  brought  the  women  in. 

"I'm  through  with  'em,"  said  Slim.  "I  decided 
that  coming  in.  I  had  to  do  all  the  talking  and  she 
just  set  there  like  a  knot  on  a  log.  What  a  ridicu- 
lous fool  I  was  over  her!  I'm  always  making  a  fool 
of  myself.  It  just  seems  to  come  natural.  And 
all  the  time  that  I  was  crawling  around  licking  her 
hand  she  was  only  studying  me  and  making  notes  in 
her  book.  All  I  was  to  her  was  just  a  'type.'  She's 
got  a  dude  back  in  New  York  with  a  dress-suit,  and 
all  the  time  she  was  just  having  a  little  fun  on  the 
side.  It  made  Elva  show  up  mighty  good  beside 
her."  When  he  mentioned  her  name  his  Adam's 
apple  rose  up  and  then  fell  down.  "But  she  de- 
ceived me — and  no  woman  can  do  that  and  expect 
me  to  be  the  same.  I  wouldn't  speak  to  her  if  I 
met  her  in  a  pig  chute.  But  how  she  could  play! 
I  never  see  anybody  who  could  make  a  fiddle  climb 
down  your  throat  the  way  she  could.  And  appre- 

219 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

ciative!  My  land,  if  anybody  had  saved  her  life 
she  would  never  get  through  thanking  them!  She 
wouldn't  have  led  anybody  on  and  on  just  because 
she  wanted  to  make  some  sketches  in  a  book.  But 
of  course  I  am  through  with  her." 

"Slim,"  I  said  after  he  had  got  all  through  except 
his  apple  bobbing  up  and  down,  "do  you  remember 
those  bones  we  found?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  them,"  he  replied,  without  much 
interest. 

"Well,  a  Professor  has  come  to  examine  them." 

"Where  is  he?  Bones  would  be  a  mighty  welcome 
relief.  I've  suffered  about  all  a  man  can." 

Slim  shook  the  Professor's  hand  enthusiastically, 
because  Slim  always  had  a  hearty  handshake.  He 
always  met  people  liking  them  and  kept  on  liking 
them  till  they  did  something  mean.  Some  people 
don't  like  others  until  they  prove  that  they  are  not 
crooks,  but  Slim  always  started  in  thinking  favorably 
of  a  person.  "Well,  I  sure  am  glad  to  meet  you, 
Professor,  because  I  think  we  got  something  that's 
going  to  interest  you.  If  he  ain't  as  long  as  a  couple 
of  them  wagons  you  can  eat  my  hat." 

Professor  Nardin  measured  the  distance  with  his 
eye.  "I  don't  doubt  what  you  say  is  true.  If  the 
fossil  remains  justify  what  I  have  always  contended 
should  be  discovered  geographically  in  this  region, 
we  should  find  a  huge  prehistoric  Brontosaurus. 
And  if  I  make  a  successful  excavation  and  restora- 
tion it  is  possible  that  the  creature  will  be  named 
after  me — the  Brontosaurus  nardini.  That  would 
be  a  rare  honor  indeed." 

220  , 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  looked  at  him  awhile,  then  his  apple  rose  up 
and  fell.  "It  would  be  a  rare  name  all  right.  But 
nobody  would  have  to  call  you  that,  would  they?" 

"That  would  be  the  name  of  the  fossil  remains. 
Its  more  common  or  popular  name  would  be  Thunder 
Lizard.  It  lived  a  great  many  million  years  ago." 

"I  could  see  that  it  had  been  dead  quite  a  while. 
I  guess  I'll  just  use  that  Thunder  Lizard  name,  too." 

"It  is  the  most  used  appellative.  I  have  just 
been  explaining  to  a  young  lady  whose  acquaintance 
I  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  make,  as  to  the  pos- 
sibility of  further  fossil  remains  in  this  geologic 
formation.  I  may  say  that  she  has  taken  a  most 
lively  interest  in  my  dissertations.  It  is  unusual  for 
young  ladies  of  this  day  and  age  to  take  any  interest 
in  anything  intellectual." 

"That's  right,"  agreed  Slim.  "They  'ain't  got 
any  sense." 

"As  a  general  proposition  I  agree  with  you,  but 
this  young  lady  is  a  most  pleasing  exception.  It 
quite  restores  my  faith  in  the  young  female  of  to- 
day. I  may  say  that  she  is  intending  to  establish  a 
music  studio  in  Hurrah,  where  I  have  no  doubt  she 
will  be  quite  successful,  as  in  addition  to  a  delightful 
personality  she  has  marked  musical  talent.  I  have 
always  been  a  great  lover  of  consonance." 

"I  have,  too,"  said  Slim.  "I  could  set  around  all 
evening  listening  to  a  good  musician  scrapin*  away." 

"Maybe  you  would  like  to  join  me  and  together 
we  will  ask  the  young  lady  to  render  us  a  selection. 
It  appears  that  it  will  be  some  time  before  this 
Indian  talk  dies  down." 

221 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  thought  awhile.  "What  kind  of  musical 
instrument  does  this  here  lady  play?" 

"Her  medium  of  expression  is  the  violin.  I  may 
say  that  she  plays  unusually  well.  I  am  quite 
certain  that  she  has  a  career  ahead  of  her." 

"I  used  to  listen  to  a  fiddle  and  it  sure  used  to 
climb  down  me  and  just  about  turn  me  wrong  side  out. 
I  would  like  to  hear  some  good  music  again,  but  I 
'ain't  got  any  use  for  women.  I'm  through  with  'em. " 

"As  to  that  have  no  fear.  On  the  contrary  I  may 
say  that  this  young  lady  and  I  have  reached  some- 
thing approaching  an  understanding.  I  have  talked 
at  length  of  the  great  field  for  research  work  and  of 
the  unlimited  possibilities  it  offers,  and  she  has  been, 
I  am  pleased  to  say,  profoundly  interested.  I  may 
say  that  she  looks  on  me  as  more  than  a — ah — a 
mere  friend.  I  should  like  the  pleasure  of  presenting 
you  to  Elva.  I  may  say  that  she  has  permitted  me 
to  address  her  by  her  baptismal  name ." 

Slim's  apple  jumped  up  and  fell  back.  "What 
did  you  say  her  name  was?" 

"Elva — a  Christian  name  not  altogether  rare. 
The  more  I  repeat  it  the  more  pleasing  it  becomes." 

"Where  is  she  now?" 

Professor  Nardin  searched  the  camp,  his  eyes 
fastening  on  a  moving  figure.  "Ah,"  he  said,  ex- 
citedly, rubbing  his  hands,  "if  I  mistake  not  she  is 
coming  now.  I  am  right — ah,  the  swing  and  grace 
of  her  carriage  is  unmistakable!  It  is  my  Elva!" 
Toward  her  he  ran  holding  out  his  hands. 

Slim  put  his  hand  up  to  his  forehead  and  staggered, 
because  it  was  his  Elva,  too! 

222 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  came  walking  up,  stepping  kind  of  high,  as  if 
the  ground  was  unsteady.  He  looked  from  Pro- 
fessor Nardin  to  Elva  and  then  back  again.  Then 
he  took  out  his  handkerchief  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"Elva,"  said  Professor  Nardin,  taking  off  his  hat 
and  holding  it  across  his  breast,  "I  want  you  to 
meet  a  friend  of  mine.  I  feel  that  I  owe  much  to 
him  for  his  fossil  discovery,  as  I  am  quite  certain  that 
it  is  going  to  be  my  greatest  work.  Elva,  shake 
hands  with  my  friend,  Mr.  Belcher." 

Slim  drew  up.  "I  think  I  have  met  your  Elva 
before." 

"Indeed!"  exclaimed  Professor  Nardin.  "What 
a  small  world  it  is." 

"Yes,"  said  Slim,  "too  durned  small." 

"Ah,  I  would  not  say  that — we  have  too  few  speci- 
mens as  it  is.  Miss  Needles  is  quite  as  excited  over 
this  new  one  as  I  am.  How  I  envy  her  her  thrill 
when  the  first  complete  bone  is  brought  to  view! 
And  how  fortunate  it  is  that  we  three  can  work 
together  in  uncovering  this  new  specimen!" 

Slim's  thin  lips  opened.  "If  you  want  any  bones 
dug  up  you'll  have  to  dig  them  up  yourself."  With 
that  he  turned  and  walked  away. 

The  Professor's  eyes  blinked  as  he  watched  Slim 
walking  off,  his  back  stiff  and  straight  and  his  hands 
flopping  at  his  side. 

"How  extraordinary!  I  suppose  his  nerves  must 
be  aroused  over  this  Indian  uprising  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  is  not  fully  cognizant  of  all  his  actions.  We 
must  be  very  patient  with  him." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  cannon  on  the  watch-tower  booms  and  the  cavalry  motes  out. 
Captain  Hall  fights  as  bravely  as  a  person  could  who  has  forgotten 
his  sword.  I  bet  you  if  I  went  off  to  battle  I  wouldn't  forget  the 
most  important  part.  Then  the  devU  guns  begin  to  roar. 

WHEN    reinforcements    began    to    arrive    the 
people  were  more  excited  than  ever.    Scouts 
returning  on  lathered  horses,  leaped  off,  and  the 
captain's  door  closed  behind  them.    Then  at  break 
of  day  they  would  ride  away  again. 

I  walked  around  among  the  new  soldiers,  because 
naturally  they  wanted  to  see  the  person  who  had 
brought  in  the  word.  I  talked  to  them  politely, 
because  I  have  always  said  that  no  difference  how 
high  up  I  got  I  would  always  be  nice  to  people.  I 
bet  you  if  I  get  to  be  President  that  nobody  can  call 
me  stuck-up.  When  people  from  Temptation  come 
in  to  see  me  I'll  be  nice  to  them  and  buy  them  some- 
thing to  eat  and  go  down  to  the  train  with  them. 

The  cavalry  came  pouring  in,  the  men  sweaty  and 
dusty.  They  had  been  riding  hard,  because  every 
hour  counted.  More  and  more  excited  the  people 
grew,  as  in  from  all  sides  came  the  missionaries, 
school-teachers,  settlers,  traders,  and  ranchers.  In 
larger  and  larger  bands  the  Indians  were  gathering 
in  the  foothills. 

224 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Among  the  Indian  Police  Captain  Hall  would  go, 
looking  at  them  anxiously,  as  some  had  already 
deserted.  They  could  not  stand  against  the  call  of 
their  own  blood.  They  were  under  command  of 
Lieutenant  High  Back,  and  a  good  lieutenant  he  was, 
in  his  blue  uniform  and  little  flat  cap,  with  his  star 
on  his  breast. 

'Til  bet  you  he'll  be  faithful  to  the  last,"  I  said 
to  Slim. 

"I  don't  know,"  grunted  Slim.  "I  wouldn't 
trust  nobody." 

Slim  didn't  think  very  much  of  people  any  more. 

Then  the  door  opened  and  I  saw  Captain  Hall 
poring  over  his  maps,  but  his  sword  was  still  dangling 
on  the  nail.  Just  at  the  time  you  would  think  he 
would  have  it  on  he  wasn't  paying  any  attention  to 
it.  If  I  had  a  good  government  sword  that  way  I 
wouldn't  neglect  it.  I  would  wear  it  all  the  time,  and 
on  rainy  days  I  would  wipe  it  off  with  vaseline. 
Captain  Hall  wasn't  as  good  a  soldier  as  I  thought. 

The  Hotchkiss  guns  were  brought  out  and  the 
soldiers  lined  up.  Captain  Hall  rode  out  before  the 
men,  his  sword  hanging  properly  at  his  side.  "Men, 
we've  got  some  pretty  tough  work  ahead  of  us.  I 
want  you  all  to  do  your  best.  Try  to  take  Plenty 
Horses.  With  him  gone  I  think  they  will  quiet 
down.  That's  all,  men — good  luck  to  you."  The 
men  cheered,  but  I  was  disappointed.  He  should 
have  had  his  hand  on  the  hilt. 

The  canno  on  the  watch-tower  boomed,  a  bugle 
answered  and  the  cavalry  moved  out.  They  gave 
me  a  tall,  rangy  horse  and  I  rode  up  at  the  head  so 

225 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

people  could  see  me.  It  was  hard  riding,  pitching 
camp  at  night  and  off  again  at  daylight.  In  advance 
the  blacksmiths  rode  and  started  their  fires  going, 
putting  on  the  shoes  the  horses  had  thrown.  Then 
the  cook-wagons  would  come  up  and  the  men  would 
rush  out  on  all  sides  to  gather  wood. 

At  the  head  of  the  column  Father  Foulois  rode,  his 
black  skirts  fluttering,  while  around  his  neck  he 
drew  his  beads,  his  lips  moving. 

Around  the  Indians  our  soldiers  were  slowly 
drawing  a  noose.  Their  women  and  children  had 
been  sent  to  the  rear.  Only  their  braves  and 
warriors  waited.  Signal  fires  would  show  for  a  few 
moments,  the  black  rings  twisting  and  turning,  then 
disappear.  A  half-dozen  painted  warriors  caught 
slinking  down  a  hill  would  flash  into  a  thicket.  We 
would  surround  it,  but  nobody  would  be  there. 

An  Indian  came  riding  toward  us,  holding  up  his 
hands. 

"Be  careful,  boys.  Watch  out  for  tricks,"  called 
Captain  Hall,  but  there  was  no  need  of  it.  When 
the  Indian  saw  Father  Foulois  he  dropped  the 
pony's  reins  and  running  toward  him  kissed  his 
black  robe.  One  time  when  his  son  was  sick  Father 
Foulois  had  nursed  the  boy  and  the  Indian  had 
never  forgotten  it.  Then  on  again. 

Deeper  into  the  foothills  we  rode,  passing  the  camp 
where  I  had  been  held  prisoner.  The  dust  they  had 
stirred  up  in  dancing  eddied  and  swirled  among  us. 
The  bones  of  the  dogs  they  had  eaten  and  thrown  in 
the  fire  lay  black  and  charred,  half  in  and  half  out 
of  the  dead  ashes,  while  on  every  side  was  the  con- 

226 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

fusion  and  litter  of  a  great  Indian  camp.  They  made 
no  attempt  to  remove  it,  as  there  was  now  no  use  in 
trying  to  hide  things. 

The  country  was  becoming  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult. The  Indians  had  gone  upon  the  high  table- 
land where  they  could  be  reached  only  by  a  few 
winding  paths  and  a  road  so  steep  that  the  cook- 
wagons  had  to  be  left  behind.  Lonesome  Charlie 
came  riding  out  of  the  stunted,  dwarfed  trees,  the 
tail  on  his  coonskin  cap  bobbing  behind,  his  snake- 
skin  gun  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm. 

"I've  met  their  runners  and  Plenty  Horses  is 
waiting.  He  wants  the  great  white  chief  to  come." 

But  Captain  Hall  would  not  go,  because  it  might 
be  a  trick.  He  looked  at  Lieutenant  High  Back. 
"You  will  take  half  your  men,  and  a  detachment  of 
white  soldiers,  and  bring  back  Plenty  Horses.  He 
must  surrender  himself  and  stand  trial.  That  is 
my  last  word." 

Lieutenant  High  Back  saluted  and  rode  away 
with  his  men.  Their  blue  caps  slouched  on  their 
heads,  because  they  could  not  learn  to  wear  soldier 
clothes  correctly. 

Plenty  Horses  loved  his  people  and  wanted  to  do 
what  was  best  for  them,  but  he  had  come  under  the 
influence  of  Mike  Grass.  Now  he  waited  in  a  cabin 
where  a  settler  had  tried  to  get  rich.  On  a  hillside 
in  a  clearing  it  stood,  the  pole  stable  now  only  a 
heap  with  the  straw  piled  in  rotting  mounds.  Leav- 
ing their  horses  tied  to  saplings  Lieutenant  High 
Back  spread  his  men  out  and  came  toward  the  house, 
sliding  from  bush  to  bush.  He  rapped  his  pistol 

227 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

butt  against  the  door.  All  was  silent  for  a  moment, 
then  the  door  was  thrown  open  and  Plenty  Horses, 
stood  before  them.  An  eagle  feather  drooped  in 
his  hair  and  his  serious,  painted  face  looked  out  at 
the  men  who  had  once  been  his  warriors.  But  now 
they  were  in  blue  uniform,  while  behind  him  his  own 
men  stood  in  blankets.  But  over  his  own  shoulders. 
Plenty  Horses  wore  the  ghost  shirt.  On  its  sleeves, 
fluttered  porcupine  quills,  while  on  its  front  was-, 
painted  the  black  buffalo  and  on  the  sides  were  half- 
moons  and  the  sacred  thunder-bird  that  brought 
the  rain  and  held  the  lightning  in  its  beak. 

Tall  and  silent  he  stood.  He  was  an  old  man 
now.  He  had  roamed  the  prairies  when  he  could 
kill  the  buffalo  on  almost  every  hill,  and  he  had 
thought  that  the  land  belonged  to  him;  but  now  he 
could  not  even  go  off  the  reservation  without  a  pass. 
When  he  was  hungry  and  wanted  something  to  eat 
he  had  to  come  to  the  Agency,  where  they  would  give 
him  an  issue  of  canned  beef.  He  wanted  the  old 
days  back,  because  he  did  not  know  that  we  never 
can  have  the  old  times  back.  We  must  always  ga 
forward,  no  matter  what  is  ahead. 

He  lifted  his  hands  toward  the  Great  Spirit. 
"And  now  they  send  my  own  people  against  me. 
Once  the  hills  and  plains  and  valleys  were  mine,  and 
now  I  have  only  a  horse  and  a  cow.  The  great 
White  Father  at  Washington  makes  promises  and  I 
tell  my  people  that  all  is  well,  and  then  winter  comes 
and  our  children  die.  I  tell  them  to  live  till  the 
warm  sun  again  bathes  the  hills,  and  then  our  cattle 
are  driven  from  the  reservation  and  we  find  them 

228 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

in  the  herds  of  the  white  man.  We  are  promised 
much,  and  many  moons  go  by  and  we  get  nothing. 
We  say  nothing,  but  we  do  not  forget.  The  chosen 
people  of  the  Great  Spirit  never  forget.  The  coun- 
try has  always  been  ours  and  in  it  we  were  happy 
until  the  white  man  came,  and  now  the  spotted  sick- 
ness sweeps  among  us.  We  cannot  hunt  and  no 
more  do  the  rivers  leap  with  fish.  We  try  to  farm, 
and  then  the  hot  winds  come.  In  our  sickness  and 
misery  the  Messiah  comes  and  tells  us  that  once 
more  happiness  will  be  ours,  and  in  our  joy  we  dance, 
that  the  Great  Spirit  may  be  brought  nearer  his 
children;  but  the  white  chief  breaks  our  drums  and 
puts  out  our  fires.  And  now,  with  our  lands  gone 
and  our  children  sick  in  our  tepees,  the  white  chief 
comes  with  many  warriors." 

I  felt  sorry  for  Plenty  Horses,  because  he  was  a 
great  chief  and  meant  well  by  his  people,  but  he 
was  wrong  about  one  thing.  He  had  more  than  he 
pretended.  He  had  three  wives,  and  if  I  had  that 
many  I  wouldn't  worry  about  a  cow. 

High  Back  began  to  look  down,  because  he  felt 
sorry  for  his  old  chief.  But  he  must  perform  his 
duty. 

"You  must  come.  The  captain  orders  that  you 
must  be  brought  back,  and  then  you  must  go 
to  prison."  Inside  the  littered  cabin,  as  the  old 
chief's  followers  heard,  a  groan  sounded.  "Do  you 
come?" 

Plenty  Horses  lifted  his  arms  to  the  Great  Spirit. 
"Yes,  I  come.  I  surrender."  Reaching  under  his 
ghost  shirt  he  brought  out  the  long,  carved  pipe  of 
16  229 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

cedar  root  which  he  had  smoked  when  he  had  signed 
the  last  treaty  for  his  people.  "I  surrender,  but  I 
break  the  pipe  of  peace.  There  can  be  no  peace. 
The  white  man  will  have  his  way  and  the  Indian  will 
perish."  From  one  to  another  of  his  body-guard  he 
looked,  and  then  over  them  he  stretched  out  his 
hands  in  his  last  blessing.  "I  give  myself ,  because 
I  have  nothing  else  to  give.  Now  I  will  go." 

But  before  he  could  move  Mike  Grass  pushed 
before  him,  enveloped  in  his  robe  of  whitened  skins. 
His  greasy  hair  fell  about  his  shoulders,  while  in  the 
slits  of  his  ears  dangled  the  teeth  of  an  elk. 

"The  prairies  belong  to  the  faithful — go  back  and 
tell  your  lying  chief  that.  Tell  him  that  his  men 
will  be  swept  from  the  prairies  and  their  bones 
whiten  the  plains."  With  that  he  began  to  roll  his 
eagle  feather,  while  around  him  his  followers  gath- 
ered, pushing  closer  and  closer  about  the  police. 

"Arrest  him,"  said  Lieutenant  High  Back. 

An  Indian  sergeant  advanced,  then  hesitated. 
Toward  him  Mike  Grass  came,  rolling  and  whirling 
his  feather.  The  sergeant's  old  Indian  superstition 
was  returning. 

"Arrest  him,  I  say,"  repeated  High  Back,  but 
before  the  sergeant  could  move  there  was  a  rush  from 
the  rear,  coarse,  heavy  grunting,  and  then  a  shot. 
Lieutenant  High  Back  fell  forward,  clutching  at  a 
hole  in  his  uniform.  Then  blood  began  to  spout. 
One  of  the  followers  of  the  Messiah  had  killed  him. 
One  of  the  police  raised  his  rifle  and  the  Indian  who 
had  killed  High  Back  put  his  hands  to  his  face. 
With  the  killing  of  one  of  their  own  the  Indians 

230 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

rushed  forward,  their  rifles  coming  out  from  under 
their  blankets,  their  fierce  war-whoops  rising. 

Plenty  Horses  suddenly  clutched  at  his  breast; 
his  body  swayed.  He  tried  to  lift  his  arms  to  the 
Great  Spirit,  but  they  sank  at  his  side.  Against 
the  house  he  lurched,  reeled  a  moment,  then  squatted 
down  as  if  looking  for  grasshoppers. 

At  sight  of  the  old  chief  that  so  many  had  fought 
under,  the  Indian  Police  could  no  longer  resist  the 
cry  of  their  own  kind.  After  all,  their  blood  was 
thicker  than  their  uniforms.  Running  they  joined 
the  others,  raising  their  wild  whoops.  The  body  of 
Plenty  Horses  was  dragged  inside  the  cabin,  while 
from  the  cracks  of  the  logs  the  mud  was  pushed 
away.  Rifles  rattled  and  popped  while  the  few 
faithful  Indian  Police  staggered  and  fell.  Across 
the  Indians  in  their  ghost  shirts  the  police  in  their 
blue  uniforms  pitched,  all  mixed  up  in  a  groaning, 
grunting  lot.  The  few  faithful  ones  that  were  left 
went  zigzagging  down  the  hill,  running  from  bush 
to  bush.  The  house  grew  silent.  Plenty  Horses 
with  a  dozen  of  his  followers  was  dead,  while  scat- 
tered down  the  hill  the  police  and  the  detachment  of 
soldiers  lay  as  they  had  fallen.  Back  to  Captain 
Hall  a  faithful  member  of  the  police  ran  with  word 
of  what  had  happened.  The  first  shot  in  the  upris- 
ing had  been  fired.  Mike  Grass  was  now  the  leader. 

The  cabin  was  surrounded,  but  when  morning 
came  and  the  soldiers  rushed  in  it  was  deserted 
except  for  the  Indians  who  had  been  killed.  Plenty 
Horses  was  gone;  his  body  had  been  carried  past 
the  pickets. 

231 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

From  all  sides  signal  fires  were  going  up.  The 
Indians  were  beginning  to  gather  in  larger  and  larger 
bodies  and  to  hold  their  ground.  With  their  ghost 
shirts  on  they  had  no  fear. 

From  over  the  hills  in  the  direction  of  the  fort  an 
escort  came  riding  up.  It  was  General  Bell  and  his 
staff.  He  was  all  dressed  up  with  gauntlet  gloves 
that  must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money,  with  badges  on 
his  shoulders  and  gold  braid  on  his  uniform.  At 
his  side  was  hanging  the  best  sword  I  ever  saw. 
Captain  Hall's  sword  wasn't  anything  to  it.  It  had 
a  gold  chain  under  the  handle  and  fancy  carving  on 
the  scabbard.  George  Washington  couldn't  have 
had  a  better  one.  I  could  see  that  he  was  a  good 
general  and  we  needn't  have  any  fear  now  about  who 
would  win.  A  President  wasn't  everything.  He 
had  a  high  hat  and  could  go  fishing  whenever  he 
wanted  to,  but  he  didn't  have  a  sword.  But  I  guess 
I  would  have  to  be  President  because  the  Hon.  Ira 
T.  Butterfield  hadn't  said  anything  about  any  general 
being  in  the  room.  But  maybe  I  would  be  a  general 
awhile  and  then  be  President.  It  certainly  did  keep 
a  person  in  a  stew  deciding  on  his  life.  If  I  hadn't 
seen  General  Bell  I  would  have  been  perfectly  con- 
tent to  go  right  on  and  be  President  and  nothing  else. 
Sometimes  it  does  seem  as  if  the  less  you  know  the 
happier  you  are.  There  was  Hoot  Howden.  He 
always  seemed  happy. 

When  General  Bell  came  up  he  drew  his  sword 
and  saluted.  Captain  Hall  was  pretty  excited, 
because  this  was  the  great  general  whose  framed 
picture  he  had  hanging  over  his  desk.  Going  off  to 

232 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

one  side  the  officers  talked,  bending  their  heads  over 
their  maps  and  once  in  a  while  looking  through  their 
telescopes. 

When  General  Bell  saw  me  he  looked  surprised. 
"What  is  this — one  of  your  refugees?" 

"This  is  that  Bowman  boy  who  brought  back  the 
word,"  said  Captain  Hall.  "He's  quite  a  find." 

It  shocked  me  to  hear  myself  spoken  of  as  "that 
Bowman  boy."  He  didn't  know  that  I  was  just  as 
big  a  person  to  myself  as  he  was  to  himself.  Some 
people  think,  just  because  they  are  older,  that  a 
young  person  doesn't  have  any  feelings  and  doesn't 
do  any  thinking  for  himself,  but  I  do.  I  have  always 
been  a  thinker.  Some  day,  I  bet  you,  Captain  Hall 
will  be  mighty  proud  to  know  me. 

"You've  been  quite  a  little  hero,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  said,  as  I  saw  that  he  was  talking  to 
me.  "I  didn't  want  to  see  the  people  killed,  so  I 
just  rode  back  and  told  the  captain.  But  I  didn't 
have  a  sword  or  anything." 

But  he  didn't  take  the  hint. 

"By  Jove,  that  was  a  remarkable  feat,  and  I'm 
going  to  see  that  you  get  something  for  it." 

"A  sword?" 

"No,"  said  he,  "something  a  lot  better  than  an 
old  sword  bobbing  between  your  legs." 

He  wasn't  as  good  a  general  as  I  thought.  I  was 
beginning  to  have  my  suspicions  of  him.  I  looked, 
and  he  didn't  have  a  mustache  comb.  Maybe, 
after  all,  they  had  just  sent  some  general  out  here 
that  they  didn't  care  about  and  let  him  get  killed. 

General  Bell  gave  the  word  and  we  started  for- 

233 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

ward  again,  riding  all  day,  sleeping  a  few  hours,  and 
starting  out  again  at  daybreak.  Scouts  returning 
brought  back  word  and  together  General  Bell  banded 
his  companies  and  detachments  into  one  army  for 
the  big  battle.  Among  the  Indians  Mike  Grass 
was  going,  hurrying  from  one  camp  to  another, 
rolling  his  eagle  feather  and  telling  his  warriors  of 
what  was  soon  to  be  theirs. 

Among  our  men  Father  Foulois  rode,  his  beard 
blowing  in  the  wind.  "My  captain,"  he  said,  as 
deeper  into  the  foothills  we  went,  "I  have  ze  in- 
fluence with  ze  Indian.  I  believe  I  can  say  that 
they  regard  me  with  highness.  I  will  among  them 
go  and  tell  them  of  ze  desire  of  ze  Grand  P£re  to 
love  them.  It  will  make  their  hearts  to  soften." 

Into  the  night  he  rode,  singing  a  French  hymn  so 
that  the  Indians  wouldn't  mistake  him  for  somebody 
else.  A  fine,  big,  strong  man  he  was.  Little  chil- 
dren loved  him,  and  when  an  Indian  went  mad  with 
whisky  and  the  police  gave  him  up  Father  Foulois 
would  go  into  the  cabin  where  he  was,  and  pretty 
soon  they  would  come  out  with  the  Indian  clutching 
his  arm  and  sobbing,  and  then  he  would  hand  over 
his  guns,  butt  first. 

I  liked  Father  Foulois,  but  I  would  never  make  a 
priest,  because  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from 
lying,  and  pretty  often  as  it  was  I  would  stretch 
things.  I  was  always  getting  into  fights,  and  to  save 
me  I  couldn't  love  my  enemies.  Sometimes  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  love  my  friends.  When  I  would 
think  of  trying  to  love  Hoot  it  almost  made  me  sfck 
at  my  stomach.  He  would  have  to  have  cholera 

234 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

infantum  before  I  would  go  to  see  him.  But  even 
if  Hoot  belonged  to  some  other  church  I  wouldn't 
want  to  be  a  Father,  because  a  Father  can  never 
know  what  true  happiness  is.  They  are  not  allowed 
to  have  even  one  wife. 

A  horse  came  dashing  toward  us,  the  rider  lying 
close  to  the  horse's  back.  It  was  Lonesome  Charlie. 
' '  They're  waiting  in  ambush, ' '  he  panted.  ' '  They're 
all  out  and  every  one  armed." 

Quickly  the  bugle  sounded,  but  before  the  soldiers 
could  form  themselves  into  line  the  Indians  came 
swooping  down  the  valley,  giving  their  piercing  war- 
whoops  and  waving  their  scalp  poles.  They  ex- 
pected that  their  poles  would  soon  be  fluttering  with 
scalps,  because  the  Messiah  had  told  them  so.  To 
the  backs  of  their  horses  they  were  clinging,  riding 
fiercely  at  breakneck  speed,  giving  their  blood- 
curdling yells  to  frighten  their  enemies.  The  bugle 
sounded  again  and  toward  them  the  soldiers  rode, 
swearing  and  yelling,  too — only  they  couldn't  make 
their  yells  sound  as  bloodthirsty  as  the  Indians 
could. 

Where  a  short  time  before  the  valley  was  peaceful, 
with  the  birds  flapping  quietly  overhead,  it  was  now 
vibrating  with  the  noise  and  sputter  of  the  rifles 
and  the  shrieks  of  the  men  as  they  fell  from  their 
horses.  Horses  running  suddenly  stopped,  and 
standing  on  their  hind  feet  began  pawing  the  air. 
Men  slipped  from  their  horses  as  if  it  had  been  an 
accident,  while  the  horses  started  for  the  rear,  the 
stirrups  flopping.  A  coyote  rushed  past,  his  ears 
back,  his  tongue  hanging  out.  In  and  out  among 

235 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

the  horses  he  dodged  until  a  bullet  caught  him,  then 
he  went  dragging  himself  off,  his  nose  pointed  up  in 
the  air. 

The  noise  and  shrieking  ceased  for  a  moment, 
making  it  all  seem  as  if  it  was  some  kind  of  a  ma- 
neuver, but  it  was  only  the  Indians  forming  to  come 
back  again.  Back  they  came,  because  they  still 
believed  in  their  shirts.  Among  the  soldiers  Captain 
Hall  rode,  encouraging  them,  his  reins  in  his  left 
hand,  his  pistol  in  his  right.  He  looked  brave  and 
the  men  charged  again  harder  than  ever,  but  he 
didn't  have  his  sword.  He  had  left  that  at  the  post. 
Just  when  you  would  think  that  he  would  be  carrying 
it  in  his  hand  and  whirling  it  around  his  head  he 
didn't  have  it  at  all.  He  would  never  get  as  far  as 
General  Bell.  I  bet  you  if  I  ever  had  a  sword  I 
wouldn't  go  off  and  forget  it.  When  I  needed  it  I 
would  have  it  there,  sharpened  up  till  it  would  split 
a  hair. 

Dust  stirred  up  by  the  thousands  of  horses  began 
to  eddy  and  roll,  sometimes  settling  over  the  men 
till  they  were  lost  from  sight,  then  suddenly  lifting 
and  drifting  away.  Horsemen  who  were  starting 
to  lunge  at  each  other  saw  that  they  were  friends 
and  whirled  and  rode  off  together.  Up  the  side  of  a 
hill  the  Hotchkiss  guns  were  dragged  and  their 
nozles  switched  around.  Their  loud,  clear  shots 
rang  out  over  the  din  of  the  battle.  A  horse  slouched 
back  and  settled  on  its  haunches.  Toward  the  guns 
the  Indians  came  charging,  but  suddenly  their  horses 
threw  up  their  heads  and  settled  over  on  their  sides. 
Never  before  had  the  Indians  heard  guns  that  made 

2*6 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

so  much  noise  or  shot  so  fast.  They  were  devil 
guns.  They  would  tear  a  ghost  shirt  to  pieces.  In 
a  circle  around  the  guns  they  piled,  their  shirts 
slowly  turning  red.  The  thunder-bird  was  so 
smeared  with  blood  and  dust  that  it  could  not  be 
told  from  the  painted  buffalo. 

Slowly  that  afternoon  the  battle  began  to  roll 
away,  leaving  piled  heaps  around  the  guns.  Some 
of  the  soldiers  as  they  lay  heaped  with  the  Indians 
were  praying  and  some  were  cursing,  once  in  a  while 
a  hand  waving  and  falling  back  limp.  Horses  tried 
to  struggle  to  their  feet  only  to  settle  back  with 
blood  flowing  from  their  noses.  Slowly  over  the 
hills  the  battle  took  its  way  as  the  soldiers  followed 
the  Indians,  once  in  a  while  their  war-whoops  rising, 
then  dying  away  as  they  got  the  worst  of  it: 

Among  the  fallen  soldiers  we  went,  bringing  them 
water  and  holding  up  the  pictures  of  their  women- 
folks and  wiping  the  blood  away.  Suddenly  I 
stopped.  There  was  something  familiar  about  the 
back  of  one  of  the  Indians.  He  had  fallen  on  his 
face  and  when  I  pulled  him  over  it  was  Head  Wind. 
Blood  and  dust  had  about  washed  the  black  half- 
moon  from  his  forehead.  A  broken  eagle  feather 
trailed  in  his  greasy  hair,  while  his  face  was  drawn 
and  twisted  as  his  horse  had  fallen,  pinning  him 
down.  A  smeared  blotch  of  blood  was  spread  across 
his  ghost  shirt.  In  his  hand  twisted  under  him  was 
clutched  the  trapper's  knife.  It  was  smeared  with 
blood  where  he  had  reached  over  and  sunk  it  in. 
When  I  let  loose  of  him  he  fell  back  with  his  face  in 
the  dust,  his  hand  still  gripped  around  the  knife. 

237 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Over  the  hills  as  far  as  I  could  see  were  dead 
bodies,  with  more  at  the  bottom  of  the  hills  than  at 
the  tops.  Two  bodies  were  lying  together — an 
Indian  and  a  white  man — with  their  arms  around 
each  other  just  as  they  had  fallen. 

In  a  draw  we  came  upon  a  body  and  when  we  saw 
the  black  robes  we  shuddered.  Father  Foulois  had 
pitched  forward  on  his  face  and  between  his  shoulders 
was  a  red  gap.  His  hands  were  still  clasped  together 
and  between  them  was  his  cross.  He  had  died  pray- 
ing. In  the  dust  and  smoke  of  battle  he  could  not 
be  distinguished  from  others  and  some  Indian  had 
sunk  his  knife.  Quickly  a  crowd  gathered  around 
him,  some  of  them  cursing  softly  and  others  wiping 
their  eyes  on  their  shirt-sleeves.  They  had  loved 
him,  and  now  he  had  died  with  a  knife  wound  in  his 
back.  He  had  done  more  for  the  Indians  than  any 
other  person,  and  now  this  was  his  end.  How  vain 
and  foolish  is  war ! 

One  of  the  soldiers  got  up.  "We've  got  to  get 
more  of  them,"  he  said,  and  cursed. 

Quickly  the  word  spread  among  the  soldiers  the 
next  day,  and  one  by  one  they  came  to  look  at  him 
stretched  out  on  a  horse  blanket  with  the  cross  still 
between  his  hands.  It  was  doing  more  to  stir  them 
up  than  the  killing  of  their  own  men.  They  started 
out  against  the  Indians  that  were  left.  Nothing 
could  stop  them.  They  were  going  to  have  revenge. 
One  by  one  they  found  the  Indians  hiding  or  hurrying 
away  as  fast  as  they  could  on  their  crippled  ponies. 
They  were  killed.  The  third  day  they  came  upon 
a  camp  in  a  little  valley.  It  was  a  camp  of  squaws 

238 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

and  men  too  old  to  fight.  They  had  come  to 
mourn  their  dead,  because  they  knew  now  that  all 
was  lost.  It  was  the  last  struggle  of  a  dying  race, 
and  it  made  me  feel  sad  to  look  at  them  dancing  for 
their  dead,  weeping  and  wailing  and  throwing  dust 
in  the  air,  but  it  would  do  no  good,  as  never  again 
would  they  be  able  to  rise  against  the  white  man. 

But  it  didn't  make  the  soldiers  feel  sad.  They 
had  seen  their  friends  killed  and  scalped  before  them, 
so  they  didn't  feel  sad  toward  their  women-folks. 
They  wanted  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  them,  because 
war  brings  out  the  worst  in  a  person. 

Up  and  down  the  voices  of  the  women  rose  and 
fell,  mourning  for  their  dead  who  would  never  re- 
turn. On  their  backs  some  of  them  carried  their 
children,  while  their  dogs  sat  at  the  edge  of  the  circle, 
lifting  up  their  voices.  The  women  had  cut  open 
their  skin  and  placed  porcupine  quills  in  their  flesh 
that  they,  too,  might  suffer.  Around  and  around 
they  danced,  calling  down  on  the  heads  of  the  soldiers 
the  hate  of  the  Great  Spirit,  while  above  the  weeping 
and  wailing  rose  the  shrill  call  of  the  bone  whistles 
from  the  wing-bones  of  the  eagle.  At  the  edge  of 
the  circle  the  soldiers  stood  with  their  guns  in  their 
hands.  Reaching  out  one  of  the  soldiers  prodded 
one  of  the  squaws  with  his  bayonet.  Stooping  down 
quickly  one  of  the  old  men  picked  up  a  handful  of 
dust  and  threw  it  into  the  air.  It  was  the  signal. 
The  ring  separated  and  at  the  soldiers  the  dancers 
rushed,  bringing  out  from  under  their  blankets  guns 
and  pieces  of  guns.  At  the  soldiers  they  came,  their 
hair  streaming  out  behind,  but  the  soldiers  only 

239 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

pinned  them  down  with  their  bayonets.  Sometimes 
two  or  three  would  rush  at  one  woman,  and  the  one 
that  got  her  felt  proud.  Even  over  the  shrieks  of 
the  dying  sounded  the  thud  when  a  bayonet  went  in. 
At  last  some  of  the  women  began  to  run  away,  but 
with  their  skirts  flapping  around  them  they  could 
not  run  very  fast.  The  soldiers  soon  caught  up 
with  them.  It  was  a  pretty  desolate-looking  place 
when  they  got  through,  with  some  of  the  women 
sitting  propped  up  like  stumps. 

A  few  days  later  while  the  soldiers  were  rounding 
up  the  fleeing  Indians  we  went  out  to  bury  the  dead. 
The  bodies  of  our  soldiers  were  put  together  to  take 
back  to  the  fort,  but  the  burying  squad  didn't  pay 
much  attention  to  the  Indians.  The  men  dug  a 
long  pit  and  stood  around  with  their  pipes  in  their 
mouths  tossing  them  in.  On  the  faces  of  some  of  the 
Indians  was  still  a  happy  look,  even  though  a  bay- 
onet had  gone  through  them,  because  they  believed 
they  were  going  to  the  Happy  Hunting  Ground. 

"Save  the  blankets,"  said  the  sergeant,  and  I  went 
ahead  pulling  them  off  when  there  wasn't  too  much 
blood. 

Something  stirred  in  one  of  them  and  I  jumped 
back,  because  it  was  enough  to  make  a  person's  flesh 
turn,  anyway.  I  bent  over  again  and  sure  enough 
it  moved.  I  had  to  do  some  counting  before  I  could 
make  myself  go  up  and  open  the  blanket,  and  when 
I  did  there  was  an  Indian  girl  in  it — her  big  black 
eyes  looking  up,  because  she  thought  her  time  had 
come.  She  had  seen  her  people  killed  and  had  lain 
there  three  days,  afraid  to  move.  I  looked  closer 

240 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

it  was  Jennie  Bird.  She  was  the  only  one  on 
the  battle-field  who  had  not  been  killed.  Her  face 
was  getting  so  thin  that  her  eyes  stood  out  like 
saucers.  Around  her  forehead  she  still  had  the  band 
that  she  had  worn  at  the  Mission  with  her  initials 
worked  in  the  colored  beads,  except  the  "J"  was 
turned  around  like  a  fish-hook. 

A  bit  farther  on  was  her  mother  with  two  bullet 
holes  in  her  and  where  a  bayonet  had  gone  through. 
I  felt  sorry  for  Walking  Thunder.  He  was  a  good 
farming  Indian  and  had  never  harmed  anybody. 
But  the  Snake  River  gang  had  killed  him,  and  two  of 
his  children  and  his  wife  had  joined  the  dance  be- 
cause she  hated  the  whites.  But  now  she  was  dead, 
too,  and  there  was  nobody  left  but  the  little  lame  boy 
at  the  Mission  and  Jennie  Bird. 

When  the  soldiers  saw  Jennie  Bird  they  came 
crowding  around,  because  she  was  pretty,  except  that 
being  so  hungry  made  her  eyes  too  big.  When  she 
saw  their  blue  uniforms  she  picked  up  a  tomahawk 
and  started  at  one  of  them,  raising  the  war-whoop, 
because  all  they  meant  to  her  was  to  kill.  Then 
she  came  to  me  and  looked  with  her  big  eyes,  and  I 
bet  you  I  take  good  care  of  her. 

The  bands  of  Indians  were  rounded  up,  coming  in 
in  twos  and  threes  and  sometimes  half  a  dozen. 
With  Lonesome  Charlie  riding  proudly  at  their 
head,  one  scouting  detachment  came  in  with  a  cap- 
tive on  a  pony  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him.  It 
was  Mike  Grass.  His  matted  hair  fell  about  his 
shoulders,  while  a  broken  eagle  feather  dangled 
behind.  His  elk  teeth  had  been  torn  from  his  ears 

241 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

and  his  long,  flowing  robe  was  gone.  He  had  been 
wounded,  but  he  had  not  stopped  to  squeeze  a  puff- 
ball  over  it  or  to  try  to  stop  the  blood,  because  the 
Messiah  could  not  be  wounded.  The  blood  had 
run  down  through  the  grease  and  dirt  till  it  was 
baked  and  hard.  On  his  pony  he  sat,  with  his  arms 
folded  across  his  breast,  his  eyes  looking  off  across 
the  horizon,  because  he  would  not  stoop  to  look  at 
his  captors.  He  would  come  before  the  military 
court  for  trial  and  would  be  sent  away  to  prison. 
Mike  Grass  gone,  the  Indians  would  again  return 
to  their  places. 

I  felt  pretty  proud  riding  in  alongside  of  Lone- 
some Charlie,  Captain  Hall,  and  General  Bell.  I 
was  beginning  to  associate  with  my  equals.  I  was 
through  with  Hoot  Howden.  Captain  Hall  looked 
pretty  proud  because  he  had  put  down  the  Indian 
uprising  and  had  captured  Mike  Grass.  It  was 
quite  a  thing  for  him,  but  he  didn't  have  his  sword 
on.  Just  because  a  person  gets  to  be  somebody  is 
no  excuse  for  him  to  become  careless  about  his 
personal  appearance. 

When  we  got  to  Hurrah  the  town  was  filled  with 
war  correspondents,  asking  questions  and  taking 
pictures,  because  the  whole  country  was  excited 
over  the  uprising.  When  they  would  try  to  take 
our  pictures  Lonesome  Charlie  and  Captain  Hall 
would  turn  their  heads,  but  I  wouldn't.  I  would 
fold  my  arms  and  turn  my  head  sideways,  because 
you  take  my  profile  so  that  my  freckles  don't  show 
and  I  look  good,  and  especially  when  I  knot  my 
muscles  and  lift  my  chest. 

242 


CHAPTER  XIX 

The  ladies  can  admire  me  if  they  want  to,  but  it  won't  do  any  good. 
A  heart  that  has  been  broken  once  can  never  be  the  same  as  it  was 
before  the  dish-water.  Slim  whispers  among  the  bones  awhile, 
then  begins  to  sing  "Baltimore  Gal." 

I  WOULD  walk  up  and  down  the  streets  letting  the 
people  look  at  me,  because  naturally  they  would 
want  to  see  the  person  who  had  saved  the  country. 
Sometimes  I  would  borrow  Lonesome  Charlie's 
snake-hide  gun  and  rest  it  carelessly  in  the  hollow 
of  my  arm.  If  they  wanted  to  take  a  picture,  it 
was  all  right  with  me.  Then  I  would  give  the 
settlers  and  ranchers  advice  about  going  back,  and 
put  my  hand  on  the  heads  of  their  children  so  that 
they  could  always  talk  about  it. 

The  bodies  of  the  soldiers  were  brought  in  and  a 
military  funeral  given  them,  but  the  bodies  of  the 
Indians  were  dumped  in  pits.  On  the  battle-field  a 
monument  would  be  raised  to  mark  the  last  stand  of 
the  Indian,  because  America  would  never  see  any- 
thing like  it  again. 

The  body  of  Plenty  Horses  was  brought  in  on  an 
ammunition  cart  with  an  old  blanket  over  it.  The 
men  were  marching  alongside  it,  once  in  a  while 
knocking  their  pipes  out.  It  seemed  sad  that  this 

243 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

was  the  end  of  him,  because  he  had  so  much  to  live 
for.  If  I  had  had  three  wives  I  would  have  stayed 
at  home  and  not  worried  so  much  about  the  buffalo. 
People  who  have  things  never  seem  to  appreciate 
them  until  it's  too  late.  But  now  of  course  I  would 
never  have  any.  A  man  who  has  been  deceived 
once  can  never  be  the  same  again.  A  heart  that 
once  has  been  broken  can  never  be  the  same  as  it 
was  before  she  threw  the  dish-water  on  him. 

Scouting-parties  came  in,  rounding  up  the  rest  of 
the  Indians,  bringing  them  in  by  twos  and  threes. 
Their  hair  was  matted,  because  they  had  thrown 
mourning  dust  in  it. 

Slim  was  not  happy.  He  would  walk  up  and 
down  the  street  with  Duff  following  at  his  heels, 
danging  to  himself,  because  every  place  he  went  he 
would  run  into  Professor  Nardin  and  Elva.  Elva 
would  be  bobbing  along  at  his  side  while  he  measured 
off  on  his  arm  how  long  a  dinosaur's  tooth  was. 

Professor  Nardin  watched  the  Indians  filing  past 
with  the  soldiers  guarding  them.  "Very  interesting 
aborigines  indeed,  but  what  a  delay  it  has  been  to 
our  noble  work!  We  must  proceed  with  increased 
speed.  How  happy  I  shall  be  if  the  fossil  remains 
justify  my  expectations  and  it  is  a  Brontosaurus  of 
the  first  order.  The  trouble  has  been  most  pro- 
voking, but  now  we  can  start  at  once.  I  am  only 
sorry  that  Mr.  and  Miss  Hazleton  could  not  have 
stayed  to  accompany  us.  I  have  made  arrange- 
ments for  wagons,  workmen,  chests,  plaster,  and 
hoisting  apparatus  and  our  little  caravan  can  start 
in  the  morning.  You  will  accompany  us,  Mr. 

244 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Belcher?  How  I  envy  you  your  first  sight  of  a 
complete  torso!  You  will  come,  will  you  not,  Mr. 
Belcher?" 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Slim.  "Anything  to  get  out 
of  this  town." 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  said  Professor  Nardin,  smiling 
and  holding  out  his  hands,  "I  have  just  received  a 
surprise  for  you.  I  have  been  commissioned  by  the 
board  of  management  of  the  museum  to  advance 
you  two  gentlemen"  (/  was  the  other  gentleman}  "an 
honorarium  of  one  thousand  two  hundred  dollars 
for  reporting  the  fossil  remains.  I  take  pleasure  in 
surrendering  it  to  you." 

"Honorarium"  is  a  word  sometimes  used  for 
money. 

Reaching  in  his  pocket  he  took  out  a  check  and 
gave  it  to  us.  Slim  and  I  were  rich.  I  could  buy  a 
barrel  of  folding  mustache  combs.  But  now  I 
didn't  seem  to  want  them  so  much.  I  was  getting 
to  be  somebody  in  the  world.  Just  wait  till  I  flop 
that  check  in  Hoot's  face!  He  never  had  more 
than  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  in  his  life.  I  guess  he 
would  give  her  up  now. 

I  ran  the  rough  edges  of  the  check  between  my 
fingers.  Think  of  it — six  hundred  dollars  for  myself ! 
When  I  got  to  be  President  I  would  have  still  more. 
The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  was  right. 

Slim  looked  at  the  check  awhile,  then  handed  it 
back  to  me.  He  was  not  happy.  His  hand  did  not 
tremble  when  he  handled  it. 

"I'm  glad  he's  going  out,"  said  Slim.  "I'm 
getting  pretty  tired  of  seeing  him,  every  time  I  stick 
17  245 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

my  head  outdoors,  walking  up  and  down  the  street, 
waving  his  hands  and  talking  about  some  animal 
that  has  been  dead  since  the  Flood.  I'll  be  danged  if 
I  know  what  she  sees  in  them  dead  skeletons." 

There  was  a  rap  at  the  bunkhouse  door  the  next 
morning  and  Slim  pushed  it  open.  There  stood 
Professor  Nardin,  with  short  pants  and  a  sweater,  and 
bags  over  his  shoulder.  "Good  morning,  my  friend. 
Are  you  ready?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know — Reddy's  calf."  Slim 
didn't  know  that  he  was  talking  the  way  Bush  Mill- 
man  had  when  it  used  to  disgust  him  so.  "All 
right,  let  her  rumble." 

But  when  he  saw  who  was  outside  he  was  not  so 
much  for  letting  it  rumble.  There  sitting  in  the 
wagon  was  Elva  and  Mrs.  Harbaugh.  Slim  swal- 
lowed and  kind  of  staggered. 

"What  a  merry  lark  we  shall  have  together,"  said 
Professor  Nardin.  "How  I  envy  you  your  first 
thrill.  We  shall  be  very  happy.  Driver,  you  may 
proceed." 

Slim  looked  up  at  the  seat  and  drew  back,  but  he 
need  not  have  worried,  because  Professor  Nardin  slid 
in  beside  her.  Slim  stood  up  among  the  plaster 
boxes  and  hoisting-tackle,  looking  back  across  the 
prairies,  but  he  might  just  as  well  turned  the  other 
way,  because  they  were  not  paying  any  attention  to 
him.  The  Professor  was  talking  about  his  bones. 
Once  in  a  while  Elva  would  say,  "How  interesting! " 
and  then  look  off  toward  a  cottonwood  where  some 
crow  was  beginning  to  stretch  his  neck. 

When  we  got  there  a  couple  of  days  later  Professor 

246 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Nardin  jumped  out  of  the  lead  wagon  and  getting 
down  on  his  knees  excitedly  began  scratching  the 
dirt  back  with  his  hands.  His  glasses  fell  off,  but 
he  only  pushed  them  aside.  At  last  he  got  out  a 
bone,  digging  in  and  around  and  under  it  so  as  not 
to  touch  it.  Then  he  picked  it  up,  handling  it  as 
carefully  as  if  it  was  a  gold  sword,  and  came  toward 
us  with  it,  brushing  off  some  of  the  dirt  with  a  whisk- 
broom  and  blowing  off  the  rest  with  his  lungs.  It 
was  from  away  down  at  the  end  of  its  tail,  but  it 
was  about  all  he  could  carry. 

"Eureka!"  he  exclaimed.  "Eureka!  It  is  the 
Brontosaurus,  just  as  I  prophesied.  How  excited 
the  world  will  be!" 

Slim  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  wagon,  ham- 
mering, pretending  that  something  was  the  matter 
with  the  whiffletree. 

"Come,  Mr.  Belcher,  and  rejoice.  You  have 
made  a  notable  contribution  to  science.  I  know 
how  happy  you  are,  Mr.  Belcher.  I  see  the  un- 
mistakable light  shining  in  your  eyes." 

"It  ain't  that,"  said  Slim.  "I'm  going  to  sneeze. 
You  been  blowing  that  dust  in  my  face." 

"But  you  don't  realize  what  you  have  given  to  the 
world.  Future  generations  will  be  enriched  by  your 
great  discovery.  Are  you  not  happy,  Mr.  Belcher? " 

"Can't  say  as  I  am,"  said  Slim.  "I  have  been 
fooled  too  many  times  to  get  stirred  up  any  more." 

"But  this  is  a  real  Brontosaurus.  I  have  as  yet 
only  this  one  fragment,  but  I  can  mentally  recon- 
struct the  whole  creature  from  this  one  vertebra. 
Think  how  this  huge  creature  roamed  this  country 

247 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

during  the  Jurassic  period  and  now  how  we  are 
privileged  to  touch  it!  Just  put  your  hand  on  it, 
Miss  Elva."  Reaching  out  he  took  her  slender  hand 
and  laid  it  on  the  bone.  Slim  shivered.  "This 
country  was  then  a  tropical  swamp,  like  the  present 
Everglades  of  Florida,  and  this  great  sauropoda 
would  come  floating  among  the  marshes  and  bayous, 
its  huge  body  buoyed  up  by  the  water,  swinging  its 
tail  and  eating  the  lilies  and  reeds.  Is  not  this  a 
happy  moment  for  you,  Mr.  Belcher?" 

"I  have  been  a  lot  happier,"  said  Slim. 

"It  was  a  female  dinosaur.  They  had  their 
mates  and  were  quite  faithful  to  them,  the  pair 
roaming  the  swamps  together." 

"Well,  all  I  got  to  say  is  that  they  have  changed 
lately." 

Slim  was  pretty  bitter,  but  it  didn't  affect  Professor 
Nardin  any.  He  went  right  on  singing  and  getting 
the  bones  out.  One  by  one  we  got  them  out  till 
they  were  piled  up  in  heaps  around  us.  It  made  me 
sad  and  thoughtful  to  stand  there  and  look  at  them. 
This  country,  now  as  dry  as  a  pancake,  used  to  be  a 
marsh  with  these  Thunder  Lizards  floating  around, 
threshing  their  tails  and  eating  out  of  the  tops  of 
trees.  The  lizard  was  longer  than  pap's  mill  and 
one  of  its  thigh  bones  weighed  570  pounds.  What  a 
difference  there  is  in  Nature!  One  of  Addie's  little 
thigh  bones  wouldn't  weigh  more  than  ten  or  twelve 
pounds.  It  made  a  fellow  think.  Nature  is  a 
wonderful  thing.  Nothing  has  been  discovered  that 
approaches  it. 

All  day  the  Professor  would  work  with  his  glasses 

248 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

pulled  down  on  the  end  of  his  nose,  measuring, 
photographing,  blowing  the  dust  away,  wrapping 
the  bones  with  bandages  soaked  in  plaster  of  Paris, 
nailing  them  up  and  marking  them  for  the  museum, 
sometimes  breaking  out  in  a  song  because  he  was  so 
happy.  But  Slim  wasn't  happy. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stand  it  any  longer.  She  de- 
ceived me  once  and  I'm  going  to  get  out  of  here." 

Slim  was  trembling  and  his  face  was  pale. 

"But  how  are  you  going  to  get  out?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  going  to  walk.    I  don '  t  care  how  long  it  takes. ' ' 

That  evening,  whistling  to  Duff,  he  started  away, 
with  his  pockets  filled  with  biscuits  that  Bun  Wah 
had  given  him.  Elva,  coming  out  of  the  women's 
tent  with  a  pair  of  scissors  in  her  hand,  started  after 
him. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Norman?" 

At  the  sound  of  his  name  Slim  turned  quickly. 
It  was  not  often  that  he  heard  his  name. 

He  looked  at  her  coldly.  "Was  you  asking — or 
did  the  Professor  want  to  know?" 

"Why  do  you  want  to  be  so  mean  and  hateful?" 

"Me  mean?  I  suppose  you  will  be  calling  me 
deceiving  next.  Go  on  back  to  your  bone  pro- 
fessor. You  might  be  missing  some  of  his  lecture." 

Elva  raised  her  head  and  her  lips  bit  into  a  straight 
line.  "If  I  wish  to  talk  to  Mr.  Nardin  I  intend  to 
do  so." 

"And  I  might  inform  you  that  I  don't  intend  to 
stop  you.  Go  on — you  are  losing  valuable  time." 
Slim's  fingers  were  cutting  into  his  palms.  "Cer- 
tainly you  have  a  right  to  do  anything  you  want  to." 

249 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Elva  came  up  closer  and  her  head  went  back, 
because  she  had  plenty  of  spirit  and  was  not  afraid 
of  anybody.  "I'll  thank  you  not  to  talk  to  me  that 
way." 

Slim  came  up  closer  and  his  head  went  back  just 
as  proudly.  "I  might  say,  now  that  you  have 
opened  up  the  topic,  that  you  have  done  a  lot  of 
things  that  I  didn't  thank  you  for.  Go  on  back  to 
your  bone  professor  and  set  in  his  lap,  too — that 
seems  to  be  your  favorite  seat." 

"You  shall  not  talk  to  me  that  way." 

"I  can't  see  as  how  it's  any  worse  for  me  to  talk 
that  way  than  it  is  for  you  to  act  that  way." 

"Stop  this  minute." 

"All  right,  I'll  stop  and  I'll  stay  stopped.  But  I 
want  to  tell  you  that  I  am  not  quite  the  fool  you 
thought  I  was.  I  was  a  fool  awhile,  but  I'm  not 
any  longer.  You  can  just  think  that  over." 

With  that  Slim  went  striding  off  into  the  dusk. 
I  never  saw  him  look  so  tall  and  strong.  His  form 
stood  out  a  moment,  bobbing  up  and  down,  and  then 
the  dusk  closed  about  him.  Elva  stood  looking 
after  him.  She  drew  up  her  hands,  then  opened  and 
shut  them.  She  was  suffering.  Going  to  Mrs. 
Harbaugh's  tent  she  went  in  and  pulled  the  flap 
down. 

Elva  didn't  come  to  supper,  and  when  I  took  her 
eggs  to  her  I  stopped  outside,  because  I  could  hear 
her  sobbing.  It  seems  too  bad  how  two  people  that 
like  each  other  can't  agree.  Each  wants  the  other, 
and  yet  something  holds  them  apart.  She  gripped 
me  tightly,  dabbing  her  eyes.  It  stirs  me  up  to  see 

250 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

a  young  lady  crying,  because  pretty  soon  I  get  to 
feeling  that  way,  too.  She  put  her  hand  on  top  of 
mine.  I  let  it  stay  there,  because  if  it  made  her  feel 
any  better  it  was  all  right  with  me.  But  she  is  the 
only  one  I  would  let  do  that,  because  I  am  through 
with  the  sex.  I  have  suffered  all  I  am  going  to. 
She  would  straighten  up  and  clear  her  eyes  and  I 
would  think  it  was  all  over  and  would  be  trying  to 
think  of  something  to  say,  when  she  would  begin 
again.  Women  are  that  way.  Just  as  you  think 
it  is  all  you  find  that  they  are  just  commencing. 

"He's  a  horrid  man  and  I'm  through  with  him." 

"Miss  Elva,"  I  said,  "Mr.  Belcher  has  your  veil 
in  his  pocket." 

She  sat  up  quickly.     "No,  he  hasn't.     It's  here 
safely." 

"The  one  you  used  to  have.    He's  had  it  ever — 
ever  since  he  left." 

She  turned  around  and  looked  at  me  a  long  time. 

"Has — has  he  carried  it  all  this  time?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  he  has." 

"What  does  he  do  with  it?" 

"Nothing.     He  just  looks  at  it  once  in  a  while." 

"Doesn't  he  say  anything?" 

"No,  except  once  in  a  while  he  kisses  it." 

She  stiffened  and  her  hand  got  tighter.     "Are  you 
sure  it's  my  veil?" 

"He  said  it  was." 

"What  else  did  he  say?" 

"I  guess  you  wouldn't  want  to  know." 

"Go  ahead.     Nothing  could  make  any  difference 
now.     I  am  prepared." 

251 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"He  talked  quite  a  bit  about  how  you  used  to 
play  for  him  and  how  it  kind  of  turned  him  wrong 
side  out,  and  how  you  were  the  only  person  who  be- 
lieved in  him,  and  then  one  evening  he  came  in  and 
found  you  in  the  arms  of  some  other  man.  Then  he 
ran  away,  and  me  and  him  have  been  pardners  ever 
since.  He's  pretty  bitter  against  women." 

Elva  stood  up  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  till 
she  could  have  got  a  job  in  a  store  window.  But 
if  you  will  look  behind  you  can  always  see  where 
they  wind  them  up. 

"What  was  that?    He  thought  I  was  in  the—" 

But  she  didn't  finish.  Bending  over  she  tried  to 
find  a  handkerchief,  but  she  couldn't.  But  instead 
of  using  her  sleeve  she  let  them  roll  down.  "Oh, 
that  horrible  man!"  she  sobbed. 

"He's  not  horrible  and  don't  you  dare  say  he  is. 
He's  the  best  person  in  the  world  and  I  won't  stand 
for  you  calling  him  that." 

"I  don't  mean  Norman — the  other  man.  He  was 
a  preacher  and  proposed  to  me  and  put  his  arms 
around  me  before  I  could  shake  him  off." 

"Wasn't  you  really  engaged  to  him?" 

Elva  shivered.  "Heavens,  no!  He  was  a  hor- 
rible sort.  Norman  must  have  come  in  just  at  that 
moment  and  thought — " 

"He  did,"  I  says. 

She  shook  out  her  handkerchief  again,  but  it 
didn't  do  much  good,  because  it  wasn't  very  big  to 
begin  with.  Women  never  have  any  handkerchiefs 
that  are  any  good.  "I  understand,"  she  said,  and 
sank  back  on  her  cot. 

252 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim  was  gone.  I  must  find  him.  Getting  on 
one  of  the  horses,  with  a  blanket  for  a  saddle,  I  rode 
in  the  direction  that  Slim  had  taken.  On  over  the 
hills  I  hurried,  but  night  swallowed  up  everything 
the  way  it  does  when  you  are  where  you  are  not 
acquainted.  "Slim!  Slim!"  I  called,  but  it  was  no 
use.  The  sound  was  lost  on  the  flat  hills.  Bigger 
than  ever  the  prairies  seemed.  Land,  land  every- 
where. It  was  always  land.  No  house,  only  now 
and  then  a  scrub  tree  with  sharp  gullies  washed  out. 
Like  a  great  ocean  it  surrounded  me.  Whichever 
direction  I  went  there  was  land,  always  more  land 
stretching  out  and  never  ending.  It  was  the  great 
prairies. 

I  had  lost  Slim.  My  voice  grew  hoarse,  but  no 
answer  came.  And  then  I  remembered  the  Indian 
signals.  Slipping  down  I  gathered  a  heap  of  dry 
grass  and  weed  roots  with  some  dirt  over  them  so 
that  they  would  not  burn  too  fast.  With  the  blanket 
I  made  the  flame  rise  and  fall.  The  horse  would 
suddenly  stand  out,  with  its  ears  up  and  every  hair 
showing,  then  down  I  would  drop  the  blanket  and 
the  darkness  would  be  deeper  than  ever.  Time 
after  time  I  swung  the  blanket,  the  light  flashing 
into  the  heavens.  Then  suddenly,  almost  at  my 
elbow,  I  heard  a  voice. 

"By  whoopy,  pardner,  is  that  you?  I  thought 
Mike  Grass  must  have  got  away." 

"Come  back  quick.  She  wasn't  playing  you 
dirt.  The  preacher  grabbed  her  in  his  arms  be- 
cause he  was  proposing  to  her  and  she  turned  him 
down." 

253 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

Slim's  apple  rose  and  hung  a  moment.  "What 
was  you  saying?" 

"Tasker,  that  preacher.  You  came  when  he  was 
proposing  and  she  turned  him  down." 

Then  I  told  him  all,  painting  it  up  a  little,  as  it 
was  a  good  chance.  "She  never  had  any  idea  for 
anybody  but  you,  Slim.  The  sight  of  all  other  men 
made  her  sick.  She  hit  that  there  preacher  a  knock 
in  the  eye  that  about  laid  him  out." 

"Do  you  think  she  did?" 

"Certainly.  He  was  all  bunged  up  for  a  couple 
of  days.  If  you'd  waited  a  moment  longer  you'd 
seen  her  lay  him  out."  Then  I  went  on  stretching 
it,  as  I  was  doing  it  in  a  good  cause. 

Back  Slim  went  with  me,  Duff  trotting  along  at 
his  heels,  once  in  a  while  giving  a  woof,  as  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  happy,  just  because  Slim  was,  the 
way  dogs  do.  Elva  was  sitting  before  the  fire, 
looking  into  it  with  dry  eyes.  The  rest  of  them  had 
gone  to  bed  and  already  Professor  Nardin  in  his 
tent  was  beginning  to  snore. 

"Miss  Elva,"  I  said,  "I  got  a  friend  here  that  I 
want  you  to  meet.  I  don't  think  you  have  met  this 
one  in  a  long  time."  She  looked  up,  surprised,  her 
eyes  glistening,  as  she  had  been  crying.  "I  want 
you  to  tell  him  how  you  knocked  that  man  down. 
You  know." 

With  that  I  pushed  Slim  forward.  A  moment  they 
paused  and  then  they  came  together,  Duff  looking  up, 
mystified.  They  talked  and  talked,  Slim  trying  to 
whisper,  but  getting  so  excited  that  his  voice  would 
go  up,  once  in  a  while  putting  in  a  happy  dang. 

254 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"I  wish  you  would  get  out  your  violin."  And 
when  I  went  to  bed  they  were  sitting  there  among  the 
bones  piled  up  in  heaps  and  stacks,  Elva  playing 
softly  and  Slim  trembling  once  in  a  while  as  if  it 
was  the  night  wind.  It  was  because  her  music  was 
turning  him  wrong  side  out,  like  he  said.  He  seemed 
to  be  floating  through  the  skies,  once  in  a  while 
having  to  lick  his  lips.  I  slipped  away  and  left 
them,  the  firelight  flickering  on  them  and  the  bones — 
once  in  a  while  a  strand  of  her  hair  floating  across 
his  face — because  I  have  good  sense. 

I  never  saw  him  so  happy  as  he  was  the  next 
morning,  joking  and  slapping  the  Professor  on  the 
shoulder  and  singing  "Baltimore  Gal." 

"Just  have  a  look  at  this,"  said  Slim,  getting  out 
his  rope  and  starting  it  going.  He  began  jumping 
through  and  cutting  fancy  figures.  "Come  on, 
Prof,  and  see  if  you  can  do  it.  All  you  got  to  do  is 
just  to  flip  it  with  your  wrist.  It's  as  easy  as  taking 
candy  from  a  kid.^  Come  on,  Bones,  and  see  what 
you  can  do." 

Professor  Nardin  looked  startled  and  started  to 
explain  that  it  was  a  mistake,  a  lamentable  mistake, 
to  confuse  bones  with  rich  deposits  of  another  age, 
and  that  to  use  such  a  term  as  a  name  for  a  person 
who  had  devoted  his  life  to  such  a  noble  calling  was 
sacrilege,  but  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  Slim. 
Giving  the  rope  a  flip  he  began  jumping  through. 

"Do  you  think  your  old  Thunder  Lizard  could 
do  that?"  asked  Slim,  kicking  up  his  heels. 

"My  good  man,  I  thought  I  had  made  it  plain 
that  the  Brontosaurus  was  a  slow-moving  animal  of 

255 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

gigantic  stature  which  did  not  depend  on  speed  to 
escape  from  its  enemies,  but  on  the  toughness  of  its 
armor-like  skin,  hence  it  would  be  highly  absurd  to 
think  of  so  ponderous  a  creature  trying  to  execute  so 
fantastic  a  performance.  I  thought  I  had  made 
that  plain." 

"Excuse  me,  I  guess  you  did.  I've  got  an  awful 
bad  forgettery." 

Slim  didn't  care  what  he  said  now.  I  had  never 
seen  him  so  happy  and  joking  so  much.  His  jokes 
were  not  very  good,  but  they  made  him  laugh. 
Even  if  nobody  else  laughed  at  them  he  had  a  good 
time  and  would  go  ahead  digging,  throwing  dirt  and 
singing  "Baltimore  Gal." 

When  the  last  box  had  been  loaded  and  all  the 
wagons  were  ready  to  start  back  to  Hurrah,  Slim 
climbed  on  one  of  the  eye-socket  boxes  and  sat  there 
kicking  his  heels  against  the  box,  singing.  The  Pro- 
fessor was  on  another  wagon  looking  pretty  lonesome. 

"I  am  sure  going  to  fix  you  up  the  swellest  music 
studio  in  the  state,"  said  Slim.  "I'm  going  to  take 
my  half  of  the  money,  and  I  guess  you'll  have  a 
studio  that  '11  make  'em  stare." 

When  we  stopped  the  first  evening  Professor 
Nardin  climbed  down,  and  as  we  were  pitching  our 
tents  he  began  to  tell  Elva  about  how  some  dinosaurs 
lived  on  grass  and  how  some  ate  meat,  but  Elva 
didn't  say,  "How  interesting!"  any  more.  She  was 
watching  Slim  and  laughing  at  the  way  he  flipped 
an  egg. 

"It  is  a  most  fascinating  study,  Miss  Elva.  It 
makes  man  seem  so  insignificant.  You  will  pardon 

256 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

me,  Miss  Elva,  if  I  review  for  you  again  the  fact 
that  the  exhumation  and  restoration  of  these  remains 
practically  insure  me  a  standing  as  head  of  my  pro- 
fession. My  monograph  will  be  read  by  some  of 
the  most  profound  minds  in  America.  If  I  do  say 
it,  Miss  Elva,  I  shall  expect  a  raise  in  salary  and  more 
leisure  to  continue  studies  that  I  hope  will  be  even 
more  exhaustive." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Elva,  but  her  eyes  were  on 
Slim. 

We  had  had  supper  and  Slim  and  Elva  were 
starting  for  a  walk,  with  Duff  tagging  at  their  heels 
and  flopping  his  tail.  "We  shall  not  be  gone  long, 
Mrs.  Harbaugh,"  said  Elva. 

"After  riding  all  day  we  got  to  stretch  our — our 
limbs,"  said  Slim,  swallowing,  because  he  had  almost 
spoken  before  he  thought. 

Professor  Nardin  came  up.  "Oh,  Miss  Elva,  I 
have  found  the  last  chapter  of  that  paper  on  pro- 
tective coloring  that  sums  up  my  conclusions,  if  you 
wish  to  read  it.  I  may  say  that  it  is  the  strongest 
part  of  the  thesis.  When  it  was  read  a  number  of 
authorities  said  that  some  of  the  deductions  were 
quite  startling.  It  would  be  a  pleasure  to  read  it 
to  you,  Miss  Elva." 

Elva  looked  at  Slim  and  then  at  Professor  Nardin 
standing  there  in  his  short  pants  and  his  glasses 
down  on  the  end  of  his  nose. 

"It  would  be  very  interesting,  Professor,"  said 
Elva,  "but  I  think  I  need  the  walk." 

Professor  Nardin,  with  his  bags  over  his  shoulder, 
stood  looking  at  them  as  they  walked  off  into  the 

257 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

dust,  Slim  once  in  a  while  giving  a  fancy  step. 
Professor  Nardin  wiped  his  glasses  and  shook  his 
head. 

"And  I  thought  she  had  so  much  interest  in  things 
of  the  intellect.  Young  females  of  this  day  and 
age  take  no  interest  in  anything  intellectual.  It  is 
sad.  I  had  had  such  high  hopes  for  this  young 
female,  Miss  Needles,  but  they  are  all  alike." 

Professor  Nardin  stood  watching  them  disap- 
pearing into  the  dusk,  rubbing  his  glasses  and 
shaking  his  head.  He  did  not  know  what  the 
country  was  coming  to. 

But  soon  I  forgot  all  about  them,  because  when  we 
got  to  Hurrah  Lonesome  Charlie  came  running 
toward  me,  and  it  was  not  often  that  Lonesome 
Charlie  got  excited. 

"Come  quick,"  he  said;  "General  Bell  wants  to 
see  you." 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  general  makes  a  speech  and  I  look  modest,  because  I  think  a  person 
ought  to.  We  arrive  at  Temptation  and  I  look  Hoot  in  the  eye  while 
the  calliope  plays  sweetly.  Then  Addie  and  I  go  out  in  the  grape 
arbor,  while  the  Chinese  lanterns  glimmer  softly  on  her  ribbon  and 
my  shave. 

T  WENT  within,  but  I  wasn't  surprised  that  General 
A  Bell  wanted  me,  because  I  was  getting  to  be  some- 
body. I  had  come  quite  a  ways.  I  had  come  to 
Hurrah  in  a  freight-car  and  now  the  great  General 
Bell  was  sending  for  me.  I  bet  you  I  get  to  be 
President  all  right.  But  I  will  have  to  do  something 
else  till  I  am  thirty-five,  because  that  is  as  young  as 
you  can  be  elected.  But  I  would  put  in  my  time 
some  way  or  other.  I  would  not  let  that  discour- 
age me. 

The  people  were  interested  in  seeing  our  wagons 
with  the  bones,  and  were  lined  up  along  the  streets, 
looking  at  us  and  taking  fresh  chews.  They  wanted 
to  see  both  me  and  the  bones,  but  they  wanted  to 
see  me  more,  because  naturally  they  would  rather 
see  a  live  young  man  who  was  going  to  be  somebody 
than  a  lot  of  dusty  bones  that  had  been  dead  a 
million  years.  People  are  not  fools. 

"Well,  I'll  be  dog-goned  and  double-crossed  with 
259 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

a  jack-rabbit,"  said  Lonesome  Charlie,  coming 
running  up  to  shake  hands  with  me,  "but  you 
certainly  have  stirred  things  up." 

"That  so?"  I  says,  dropping  his  snake-hide  gun 
carelessly  in  the  hollow  of  my  arm  and  turning  my 
profile. 

"It  shore  is.  The  whole  country's  talkin'  about 
you.  Them  reporters  has  been  printin'  your  picture 
and  writin'  reams  about  you.  Just  look  at  this." 
Reaching  in  his  pocket  he  unwrapped  his  deerskin 
purse  and  pulled  out  some  clippings.  "Our  Boy 
Hero.  As  Modest  as  He  Is  Brave.  Saved  Count- 
less Lives,  But  Dislikes  to  Pose  for  His  Picture.  The 
Nation's  Hero.  Fine  Example  of  Young  American 
Manhood." 

They  had  thought  that  I  didn't  want  to  have  my 
picture  taken !  I  wouldn't  tell  them.  I  would  just 
let  them  go  on  and  think  that.  But  it  didn't  make 
any  difference  to  me  whether  they  took  my  picture 
or  not — especially  when  I  had  my  rrofile  turned. 
Let  me  turn  my  profile  and  get  the  camera  back  far 
enough  so  the  freckles  won't  show  and  I  take  a 
picture  the  right  kind  of  lady  would  be  proud  of 

The  people  set  up  a  shout  and  threw  their  hats 
in  the  air.  Professor  Nardin  began  to  sit  up. 
"Hurray,  hurray,"  they  yelled.  "Three,  cheers  for 
him."  Professor  Nardin  put  his  spectacles  down  on 
the  end  of  his  nose  and  stood  up. 

"My  fellow-citizens,  it  is  indeed  a  pleasure  to  see 
with  how  much  enthusiasm  scientific  research  is 
rewarded.  I  am  pleased  to  tell  you  that  our  en- 
deavors have  been  eminently  successful  and  that  the 

260 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

complete  fossil  remains  of  the  great  Brontosaurus 
will  be  safely  preserved  for  all  time — " 

A  reporter  pushed  him  aside.  "Will  you  step  out 
here  and  pose  for  your  picture,  Mr.  Bowman?" 

"Sure,"  I  said.  "Would  you  like  to  have  the 
gun  in  it?" 

Professor  Nardin  stood  there  in  his  short  pants, 
with  his  collecting  bags  over  his  shoulder,  rubbing 
his  glasses.  Walking  up  I  carelessly  dropped  the 
gun  in  the  hollow  of  my  arm  and  turned  my  head 
slightly  sideways. 

As  the  crowd  followed  me  off  down  the  street 
after  the  picture,  Professor  Nardin  stood  there  shak- 
ing his  head  because  he  couldn't  understand  why 
people  would  be  more  interested  in  me  than  in  bones. 
He  did  not  know  how  smart  people  are. 

I  walked  up  to  General  Bell's  headquarters  with 
the  easy,  natural  step  that  I  can  take,  swinging  my 
arms  easily  and  naturally  and  speaking  to  every- 
body alike  so  that  nobody  would  have  their  feelings 
hurt,  because  when  I  am  President  I  am  going  to  be 
the  same  to  everybody.  Just  getting  a  few  honors 
isn't  going  to  make  any  difference  in  me.  I  don't 
care  how  busy  I  am  talking  over  business  matters 
with  the  Senate,  if  anybody  from  home  comes  to 
see  me  I'll  say:  "You'll  have  to  excuse  me.  Bill 
Jones  from  Temptation  is  waiting  to  see  me.  Gen- 
tlemen, you'll  have  to  excuse  me.  There  are  some 
magazines  if  you  want  to  glance  through  them." 
Unless  it  was  Hoot  Howden.  If  it  was  Hoot  I 
would  just  fold  up  the  note  and  go  on  talking  about 
the  tariff,  or  whatever  it  was  I  had  to  settle.  Then 

18  261 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

after  a  while  I  would  come  out  and  shake  hands  with 
him  and  ask  if  the  folks  back  home  were  well,  but 
I  wouldn't  give  him  any  free  cigars. 

"Howdy  do,  general,"  I  said,  and  reached  out  my 
hand.  "Was  there  something  you  wanted  to  see  me 
about  personally?" 

He  did  not  have  on  his  sword.  It  was  leaning 
against  an  old  wabbly  stool.  It  seemed  strange 
that  a  man  who  had  handled  the  campaign  as  well 
as  he  and  I  had  wouldn't  be  more  careful  about  the 
little  things  of  life.  I  bet  you,  if  I  had  one,  the 
public  wouldn't  be  able  to  criticize  me. 

"Yes,"  said  General  Bell,  kind  of  set  back,  be- 
cause he  didn't  think  I  would  be  so  friendly.  "Tele- 
grams have  been  pouring  in  about  you.  You  are 
the  nation's  hero." 

"I  just  did  my  duty,"  I  said,  simply,  so  that  he 
could  always  remember  it.  "Somebody  had  to  do 
it." 

"Your  father  and  mother  have  been  sending  calls 
from" — picking  up  one  of  the  yellow  sheets  he  looked 
at  it —  "from  Temptation,  and  they  want  me  to 
bring  you  back.  Get  ready  at  once.  If  you  hadn't 
acted  so  nobly  I  would  give  you  a  lecture  about 
running  away  from  your  parents." 

He  might  be  a  great  general  all  right  and  I  wouldn't 
say  he  wasn't,  although  he  was  careless  about  his 
personal  appearance,  but  he  didn't  know  anything 
about  the  opposite  sex 

"All  right,  general.  I'll  be  ready  as  soon  as  I 
can  go  down  to  the  Best  Place  Saloon  for  a  bit.  I 
want  to  see  some  friends." 

262 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Very  well,  Harold.  Come  back  as  soon  as 
you  can.  I'm  going  to  have  a  military  escort 
for  you." 

I  guess  that  was  something — having  a  company 
of  soldiers  marching  me  to  the  train.  How  different 
from  when  I  had  come  in.  Then  Slim  and  I  had 
been  on  a  freight,  and  now  I  was  going  back  with 
the  United  States  army  marching  with  me.  General 
Bell  would  have  on  his  sword  and  I  would  be  washed 
and  if  I  could  find  some  good  barber  I  would  have  a 
shave. 

Walking  in  the  Best  Place  Saloon  I  put  my  foot 
on  the  rail.  "Give  me  a  glass  of  suds,  George." 
Then  I  blew  the  foam  off  and  drank  it  without  raising 
my  lips.  George  left  the  other  men  while  he  came 
over  and  talked  to  me.  How  things  had  changed! 
This  was  the  very  saloon  where  Father  Foulois  in 
his  long,  black  robe  had  come  to  me  and  said,  "Oh, 
so  young ! "  and  now  I  was  a  man  of  the  world. 

It  just  shows  how  people  can  get  ahead  if  they 
don't  give  up.  I  guess  it  would  have  been  a  surprise 
to  him  then  to  know  that  he  was  putting  his  hand 
on  the  future  President  of  the  United  States.  Then 
I  asked  George  about  his  family  so  that  he  could 
treasure  it,  but  he  didn't  have  any.  ' '  Well,  good-by, 
George.  I've  got  to  go  down  and  have  a  military 
escort  or  something.  So  long." 

Slim  and  Elva  had  found  the  building  where  they 
were  going  to  open  her  studio.  She  was  walking 
up  and  down  thinking  where  she  was  going  to  put 
her  things,  while  Slim  was  standing  there  never 
taking  his  eyes  off  her. 

263 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

"Ain't  she  a  wonder!"  said  Slim,  when  she  had 
gone  to  ask  the  owner  if  he  would  put  in  double 
windows.  "Didn't  I  always  tell  you  she  was  a 
peacherino?  I  sure  am  going  to  fix  up  a  studio 
place  that  '11  make  you  want  to  take  your  shoes  off 
at  the  door.  I'm  going  to  spend  all  that  bone  money 
on  it.  And  when  she's  practising  I'm  going  to  stand 
outside  the  door.  I  guess  I'll  be  in  heaven.  By 
whoopy,  man,  there  ain't  nothing  in  the  world  like  a 
good  woman.  I  always  said  that." 

With  that  Slim  danced  a  few  steps  and  slapped  his 
hat  on  his  knee.  "I'll  sure  just  about  spoil  her  to 
death.  And  think  all  the  time  that  I  was  doubting 
her  and  danging  her  she  was  going  quietly  about  her 
business  and  still  believing  in  me.  It  sure  plumb 
makes  me  ashamed  of  myself."  Slim  choked  and 
his  apple  bobbed  up  and  down.  "There  ain't 
nothing  like  the  right  kind  of  woman,  pardner." 

That  was  all  right  for  Slim,  because  he  had  never 
had  any  dish-water  thrown  on  him,  but  as  long  as  he 
was  happy  I  wouldnjt  disillusion  him.  There  isn't 
any  use  in  making  people  unhappy  when  it  is  un- 
necessary. Let  them  have  their  illusions,  that  is 
what  I  say. 

General  Bell  was  looking  pretty  uneasy  the  next 
morning  when  the  stage-coach  was  about  ready  to 
start.  He  had  his  sword  on  and  was  walking  up 
and  down  when  I  came  swinging  in,  speaking  to  the 
people  along  the  street  and  tossing  nickels  to  some  of 
the  poor  children. 

"Are  you  ready,  Harold?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know — Reddy's  calf."  The 

264 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

soldiers  laughed,  because  they  didn't  know  that  I 
could  say  such  clever  things.  "Let  her  rumble." 

Giving  the  command  the  soldiers  started  and  the 
general  and  I  walked  along  together,  the  sword  on 
one  side  and  I  on  the  other.  The  sun  was  shining 
on  it  and  at  every  step  it  flashed  and  rattled  sweetly. 
It  had  a  longer  handle  than  was  necessary,  but  it  was 
carved  beautifully.  If  you  ever  got  tired  of  the  gold 
chain  you  could  put  a  snap  on  it  and  wear  it.  A 
pretty  good  pair,  the  general  and  I  made,  him  tall 
and  dignified  and  me  with  my  chin  raised  slightly 
and  my  shave.  The  people  cheered  and  I  bowed  to 
them,  as  it  would  be  the  last  time  they  would  see  me 
till  I  came  through  stumping. 

Along  the  way  to  Temptation  people  were  at  the 
stations  to  meet  us,  and  when  they  saw  us  they  would 
throw  up  their  hats  and  try  to  climb  through  the  car 
windows.  I  could  not  blame  them  much,  as  the 
general  and  I  had  done  a  big  piece  of  work  and 
naturally  they  would  want  to  see  the  people  who 
maybe  had  saved  their  lives.  The  general  would 
salute  them  with  his  sword,  but  he  ought  to  be 
careful  about  such  things  because  the  roofs  are 
low.  And  then  he  would  make  a  speech  and  I 
would  stand  beside  him  with  my  profile  turned 
to  the  crowd,  nodding  my  head  when  he  said 
anything  about  danger.  In  conversation  he  was 
a  pretty  good  talker,  but  he  could  not  make  a 
speech  the  way  the  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  could. 
He  did  not  know  about  the  iron  in  our  stately 
hills. 

Then  the  train  would  start  on  and  at  the  next 
265 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

station  there  would  be  another  crowd  and  we  would 
go  out  on  the  platform  again. 

"Jehoshaphat,"  said  the  general,  "this  is  getting 
tiresome.  How  many  more  stations  we  got ,  anyway  ? ' ' 

It  was  shocking.  The  more  stops  the  better  for 
me.  If  they  wanted  to  yell  and  give  me  lemonade 
it  was  all  right  with  me.  I  like  to  see  people  happy. 

How  things  had  changed  since  I  had  been  along 
here  before !  Then  I  had  come  in  a  box-car  and  now 
I  was  coming  home  somebody.  They  could  elect 
me  before  I  was  thirty -five  and  then  I  could  take  my 
seat  after  my  birthday. 

The  biggest  crowd  of  all  was  at  Temptation.  Let 
them  come.  I  was  getting  used  to  people  looking 
at  me.  They  were  cheering  and  throwing  their 
hats  when  we  came  in,  while  I  stood  calmly  on  the 
platform,  with  my  arms  folded  across  my  breast, 
glancing  at  them  out  of  a  corner  of  my  eye.  Above 
the  crowd  the  wheat  elevator  loomed,  with  men 
looking  out  the  shovel  holes  and  waving  their  hands. 
How  things  had  changed  since  the  night  Slim  and  I 
were  there!  Then  the  world  had  seemed  so  big  and 
far  away  and  now  it  was  mine.  I  had  conquered  it. 
All  I  had  to  do  now  was  to  live  a  quiet,  law-abiding 
life  till  I  was  elected. 

Ma  came  pushing  through  the  crowd  with  her 
gold-bar  stickpin  on.  "Oh,  Harold!  Harold!"  Then 
she  took  me  into  her  arms  and  kissed  me.  But  it- 
was  all  right  with  me,  because  with  what  I  had  done 
nobody  would  think  anything  about  it.  "Oh,  my 
boy!  my  boy!  How  lonely  I  have  been!"  That 
was  all  she  said.  She  didn't  ask  me  anything  about 

266 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

how  I  had  defeated  the  Indians  nor  about  the  bone 
money.  Mothers  are  queer  that  way.  They  don't 
seem  to  care  as  much  about  worldly  honors  as  they 
ought. 

The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  had  his  carriage  out, 
with  flowers  in  the  back.  He  and  I  and  the  general 
climbed  in  and  down  the  street  we  rode,  while  the 
people  cheered  and  waved.  The  general  and  the 
Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  looked  pretty  proud.  Down 
through  the  flags  we  went  to  the  grand  stand.  Some- 
thing was  going  ahead  of  us  hooting  and  singing  and 
playing  a  sweet  tune.  You  could  hear  it  all  over 
town. 

"What  is  that?"  I  asked  over  the  noise. 

"We're  celebrating  right,"  said  the  Hon.  Ira  T. 
Butterfield.  "We've  hired  a  steam  calliope  for  the 
occasion.  When  one  of  our  citizens  distinguishes 
himself  the  people  of  this  splendid  country  give  him 
a  reception  in  accordance  with  his  deed." 

Up  and  down  it  would  go,  sometimes  making  your 
ears  rattle  and  sometimes  so  low  and  sweet  that  you 
could  hardly  hear  it.  A  violin  was  all  right,  but  you 
had  to  get  right  up  on  it  to  hear  it.  A  calliope  was 
the  kind  of  musical  instrument  to  have.  You  could 
get  some  pleasure  out  of  it.  I  bet  the  musician 
playing  it  was  pretty  proud.  Only  if  I  was  playing 
it  I  would  turn  my  head  slightly  to  one  side. 

A  platform  had  been  built  in  the  square  with  flags 
over  it  and  bunting  draped  around  the  banisters 
leading  up  the  steps.  The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield 
helped  me  up  the  steps  and  sitting  down  I  raised  my 
chiri  and  looked  out  over  the  sea  of  faces.  My 

267 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

heart  gave  a  thump  and  turned  over,  because  there 
sitting  on  the  front  row  was  Addie  with  her  father 
and  her  sister,  Ernestine.  Addie  had  on  a  new 
dress  and  a  new  ribbon  in  her  hair.  Something  got 
in  my  throat  and  I  had  to  swallow  it.  It  was  strange 
how  looking  at  a  girl  that  I  didn't  have  any  use  for 
excited  me.  I  was  beginning  to  swallow  the  way 
Slim  did.  Stiffening  my  neck  I  turned  my  profile 
to  her.  I  would  let  her  admire  it,  because  I  guess 
she  had  suffered  enough  while  I  was  gone.  I  guess 
a  good  many  nights  she  hadn't  been  able  to  sleep 
much. . 

The  Hon.  Ira  T.  Butterfield  was  at  home.  He 
was  making  a  speech. 

"Why  shouldn't  a  hero  come  from  here? — I  ask 
you  that.  Have  we  not  the  greatest  state  in  the 
Union?  Have  we  not  the  greatest  resources?  For 
us  Nature  has  opened  her  golden  cornucopia  and 
poured  out  her  bounteous  supply."  He  was  getting 
warmed  up  to  his  subject.  "In  our  valleys  we  have 
water  enough  to  put  out  all  the  fires  of  hell,  enough 
rocks  in  our  stately  hills  to  build  a  wall  around  the 
world,  enough  marble  to  rebuild  the  Temple  of 
Jerusalem,  enough  iron  to  build  a  road  to  the  moon, 
and  enough  telegraph-poles  to  run  a  line  to  the  Day 
of  Judgment  and  back." 

The  people  cheered.  What  a  wonderful  country 
we  had  because  everybody  always  talked  it.  A  good 
many  of  them  had  a  pretty  hard  time  making  a 
living,  but  it  didn't  make  any  difference  to  the  Hon. 
Ira  T.  Butterfield.  He  would  just  talk  up  the 
stately  hills  more  than  ever. 

268 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

General  Bell  wasn't  the  natural  speaker  that  the 
Hon.  Ira  T.  3utterfield  was.  He  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  what  was  in  our  hills.  He  just  stood 
there  with  his  knuckles  on  the  table,  his  sword 
swinging  gracefully  at  his  side,  telling  them  about 
the  uprising  of  the  Indians  and  how  the  United 
States  army  had  been  able  to  act  because  I  had 
brought  in  the  word.  He  didn't  paint  it  up  much, 
but  when  he  stopped  the  people  cheered  and  es- 
pecially Addie.  Raising  her  hands  she  clapped 
long  and  loud  and  Mr.  Mingo  clapped,  too.  They 
didn't  seem  to  understand  that  I  was  through  with 
women. 

"Now,"  said  General  Bell,  lifting  his  shoulders 
with  the  gold  lace  on  them,  "I  have  for  this  young 
man  of  your  city  a  rare  distinction.  It  is  a  letter 
from  the  President  of  the  United  States,  and  now 
on  my  own  part,  acting  in  the  name  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  the  Interior,  I  wish  for  his  honored  services 
to  present  him  with  my  own  personal  sword." 

With  that  he  unbuckled  his  sword  with  the  gold 
chain  handle  and  gave  it  to  me.  I  was  getting  to  be 
somebody.  The  President  of  the  United  States  had 
written  me  a  letter  and  General  Bell  was  giving  me 
his  own  gold-handled  sword.  It  was  something  to 
have  such  a  letter.  When  I  got  to  be  President  I 
would  send  out  a  lot  of  them  and  sometimes  I  would 
slip  in  a  five-dollar  bill.  I  could  do  anything  with 
the  sword  I  wanted  to.  I  could  wear  it  down-town 
Saturdays,  or  horseback  riding  or  anything  I  wanted 
to.  I  tried  to  say  something,  but  my  apple  got  in 
the  way.  I  would  never  laugh  at  Slim  again.  The 

269 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

crowd  began  to  cheer  and  then  the  calliope  began  to 
play  softly,  while  the  people  crowded  around  me, 
shaking  my  hands  and  asking  me  if  I  remembered 
them.  On  and  on  the  calliope  played,  sometimes 
sounding  away  off  and  sometimes  sweet  and  gentle, 
its  brass  pipes  glistening  in  the  sun  and  the  steam 
spurting  out  the  top.  It  made  a  nice  picture  and 
the  man  who  played  it  ought  to  be  happy. 

With  my  sword  in  my  arm  I  came  down  the  steps 
speaking  to  the  people  alike,  shaking  hands  and 
being  sociable.  Hoot  was  running  a  lemonade- 
stand,  whooping  and  yelling  away.  Even  though 
Hoot  had  treated  me  unfair  I  would  be  nice  to  him. 
"Howdy  do,  Hoot,"  I  said. 

"Hello,  Turkey,"  he  said,  wiping  his  hands  on  his 
apron;  "put  it  there." 

Changing  my  sword  to  the  other  side  I  shook 
hands  with  him.  The  sword  was  in  the  way,  I  was 
beginning  to  see,  and  would  take  a  good  deal  of 
wiping.  I  guess  there  are  a  good  many  people  in 
the  world  who  have  swords,  but  with  calliopes  it  is 
different.  There  are  not  so  many  of  them  and  other 
people  can  enjoy  them — especially  if  the  person 
playing  them  has  musical  ability. 

"Step  up  and  have  a  glass  of  lemonade,"  said  Hoot. 
"I  won't  give  you  any  crow  lemonade,  either." 
With  that  he  laughed  and  gave  me  a  glass  without 
charging  me  anything  for  it.  Hoot  had  some  good 
points.  If  he  had  some  good  person  to  pattern  after 
he  might  turn  out  to  be  all  right. 

"They  sure  gave  you  some  reception,"  said  Hoot. 
"I  was  the  one  who  said  they  ought  to  have  a  cal- 

270 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

liope.  The  man  said  if  I'd  come  around  to-night 
he'd  let  me  play  it." 

Hoot  was  smart  in  such  things.  The  best  part  of 
the  reception  was  the  calliope  and  Hoot  was  the  one 
to  think  of  it.  Hoot  would  be  all  right  if  he  had  a 
little  more  sense  in  some  things. 

Then  Hoot  gave  me  another  glass  free  and  mo- 
tioned me  out  behind  where  he  squeezed  the  lemons. 
"Do  you  want  to  go  along?" 

"Don't  care  if  I  do,"  I  says,  but  that  evening 
while  I  was  sitting  on  the  porch  with  ma  a  boy  came 
up  with  a  letter  addressed  to  me.  It  was  in  nice, 
fine  writing,  straight  up  and  down,  with  the  t's 
crossed  straight.  It  was  not  from  Hoot,  because  it 
was  dainty. 

I  opened  it  and  it  made  my  heart  burn.  It  was 
from  Addie. 


DEAR  MR.  BOWMAN,  ESQ., — I  am  giving  a  lawn-party  to- 
morrow evening  in  our  yard  and  I  hope  you  will  attend  as 
the  guest  of  honor.  An  answer  is  respectfully  required. 

(Miss)  ADELAIDE  MINGO. 
R.S.V.P. 


Should  I  attend  or  not?  Should  I  encourage  her 
or  should  I  let  her  suffer?  I  liked  to  ask  myself 
these  questions,  and  hesitate,  but  I  knew  which  I 
was  going  to  do.  Her  conscience  was  troubling 
her.  How  she  must  have  suffered!  She  was  going 
to  apologize  for  having  thrown  water  on  me.  Well, 
I  would  go,  but  I  would  let  her  think  for  a  while 
that  my  heart  would  never  be  the  same.  I  would 

271 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

keep  her  in  doubt  till  hers  was  about  to  break,  then 
I  would  forgive  her  kindly.  A  fellow  can't  live 
always  without  knowing  something  about  women. 

"All  right,  I'll  go  this  time,"  I  said  to  myself  and 
then  went  to  sleep,  sleeping  well,  the  way  I  have 
trained  myself  to  do. 

The  next  morning  I  went  down  to  the  Prairie 
Queen  Store  and  bought  me  the  best  suit  of  clothes 
they  had  and  pulled  off  the  tags.  I  looked  pretty 
good  in  it  and  especially  when  I  stood  between  the 
folding  mirrors.  I  certainly  had  a  profile  that  a  girl 
ought  to  be  proud  of.  No  wonder  Addie  was  trying 
to  make  up  for  what  she  had  done.  Girls  are  not 
all  bad.  They  make  their  mistakes,  but  so  does 
everybody  for  that  matter.  I  have  always  said  that. 

With  my  hand  swinging  easily  and  naturally  at 
my  side,  I  walked  down  to  Mr.  Mingo's  house. 
Fixing  my  tie  and  clearing  my  throat,  I  passed 
through  the  marble  gate-posts.  The  lawn  was  all 
lit  up  with  Chinese  lanterns  and  behind  some  palms 
an  orchestra  was  beginning  to  tune  up.  Walking 
up  properly  and  correctly  I  rang  the  door-bell  and 
cleared  my  throat  for  the  last  time. 

"Well,  hello  there,  stranger,"  said  Mr.  Mingo, 
coming  to  the  door.  "Come  right  on  in.  I  guess 
Addie  is  about  ready." 

That  was  all  right,  but  he  needn't  think  that  I 
had  forgotten  that  dish-water. 

"Good  evening,  sir,"  I  said,  because  that  would 
show  him  that  I  had  not  forgotten  the  past.  Then 
Addie  came  down  and  my  heart  turned  over.  She 
was  prettier  than  ever.  But,  even  if  she  was,  I 

272 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

wouldn't  let  her  think  that  I  had  forgotten.  A  man 
can't  have  his  heart  broken  and  expect  it  to  knit  up 
overnight. 

"What  a  man  of  the  world  you  are!"  said  Addie, 
admiring  my  new  suit. 

I  straightened  up.     ' '  Do  you  notice  any  changes  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  I  think  you're  more  freckled." 

It  was  staggering.  After  all  this  time  and  after 
all  the  experiences  I  had  gone  through,  and  after  all 
my  suffering,  the  only  changes  she  could  see  were 
freckles.  It  was  disheartening.  But  I  would  let 
her  know  about  how  she  had  treated  me.  It  was  a 
wonder  that  I  wasn't  broken  down. 

"Maybe  so,"  I  said,  kind  of  coldly.  "Possibly 
I've  been  out  in  the  sun  and  wind  a  good  deal 
saving  human  lives,  but  I'd  rather  do  that  than 
suffer  the  way  I  have." 

"How  was  that?" 

"The  last  time  I  was  here  there  wasn't  any  music 
for  me.  I  had  to  make  my  own  music  then.  Maybe 
you  don't  remember  that  I  came  and  stood  outside 
and  recited  poetry  to  you.  Maybe  you  don't 
remember  that?" 

"I  do,"  said  Mr.  Mingo,  eagerly.  "I  heard 
something  squawking  outside  the  window  that  night 
and  I  threw  a  bucket  of  water  on  it." 

I  gasped.  That  was  what  Mr.  Mingo  thought  of 
my  poetry.  Squawking!  How  could  I  bear  it? 
Life  is  so  full  of  trouble  and  disappointment.  A 
young  man  has  a  hard  time  in  life.  Sometimes  it 
almost  seems  it  isn't  worth  while. 

But,  anyway,  it  wasn't  Addie  who  had  thrown 
273 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

the  water.    That  was  some  comfort.     She  had  finer 
feelings  than  her  father.     She  and  I  were  more  alike. 

By  ones  and  twos  they  came  in,  while  over  all  rose 
music  and  laughter,  we  young  men  standing  there 
noble  and  tall  and  the  girls  swishing  by  admiring  us. 
More  and  more  gathered  around  Addie,  because  she 
was  the  center,  and  especially  with  her  new  hair 
ribbon.  Too  many  of  them  were  getting  around  her, 
though,  especially  Hoot.  He  didn't  seem  to  have 
learned  much  with  the  passing  of  time. 

"Addie,"  I  said  when  I  had  a  chance,  out  under 
the  grape  arbor  as  the  Chinese  lanterns  swayed 
softly  in  the  wind  and  lit  up  my  profile.  "Addie," 
I  said,  "did  you  miss  me  much  while  I  was  gone?" 

She  dropped  her  head  and  the  light  danced  on  the 
ribbon.  "Some,"  she  said —  "naturally — as  every- 
body was  talking  about  you  and  where  you  had 
gone.  But  when  Marvin's  folks  moved  out  to  the 
new  addition  and  he  started  coming  by  this  way  to 
school  I  didn't  miss  you  so  much." 

"Addie,"  I  said,  bending  over  and  lowering  my 
voice  softly,  the  way  I  can  when  I  am  talking  to  the 
right  person,  "you  have  been  constantly  in  my 
mind.  Every  day  I  have  thought  of  you.  Look  at 
this.  I  have  had  this  with  me  ever  since  I  left  and 
carried  it  next  to  my  heart."  With  that  I  pulled  out 
her  little  shirt  and  put  it  in  her  soft,  white  hand. 

Addie  looked  startled.     "Where  did  you  get  that  ?" 

"From  the  clothes-line,  the  night  I  went  away 
forever." 

"It  isn't  mine — it's  Ernestine's!  She's  hunted 
everywhere  for  it.  At  last  she  gave  it  up,  because 

274 


TURKEY  BOWMAN 

she  thought  some  dog  had  pulled  it  down.  You 
know  how  playful  pups  are." 

I  staggered.  After  all  the  time  that  I  had  carried 
it  and  treasured  it  and  protected  it  with  my  body  it 
wasn't  hers,  but  Ernestine's!  It  was  discouraging. 
Life  was  just  one  burden  after  another. 

Going  over  to  a  corner  I  sat  down  and  fanned 
awhile.  Well,  I  wouldn't  give  up  yet.  I  would  still 
continue  to  live.  .  .  .  Then  softly  outside  in  tne  street 
a  musical  noise  began  to  sound.  At  first  it  was  low 
and  far  away,  then  it  got  louder.  Mr.  Mingo  had 
hired  the  man  to  play  the  steam  calliope  for  us.  Mr. 
Mingo  was  a  kind  and  thoughtful  man  and  under- 
stood people. 

"Come  on,  le's  see  it,"  I  said  to  Addie,  and  taking 
hold  of  her  hand  we  rushed  out  to  the  lawn  fence. 
There  passing  slowly  was  the  musician  in  his  gold- 
braided  coat,  his  back  stiff  and  proud,  playing  the 
music.  Slowly  past  he  went,  putting  in  the  fancy 
touches,  sometimes  high,  sometimes  low,  the  way 
music  should  be  played.  I  watched  him  till  he  put 
the  calliope  away  in  the  livery-stable  and  slammed 
the  door.  I  bet  you  I  have  one  some  time.  There 
is  no  use  in  giving  up  and  quitting  just  because  your 
heart  has  been  broken  once.  Just  keep  going  ahead 
and  things  will  come  to  you. 

Then  the  orchestra  started  up  again,  and  taking 
hold  of  her  hand  we  went  skipping  lightly  back  to 
the  house,  the  way  I  can  do. 

THE   END 


IIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII1 

III  I II II  III  I II  111  II II ll  I II 

A    000864219     1 


